


Sometimes There Has to be Angst (and Fluff)

by AspenCe



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Collection of one-shots, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Heavy Angst, Humor, I take requests, Light Angst, M/M, Multi, Other, Tags on Each Chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:07:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 36,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27437089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AspenCe/pseuds/AspenCe
Summary: This is a compilation of short stories about various sides - and I want requests!I only have one rule: nothing sexual~
Comments: 123
Kudos: 36





	1. Roman’s List

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman’s list of mistakes... isn’t really filled with mistakes. Not on his part, at least.
> 
> No Happy Ending, Unintentional Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Breakdowns

Roman wasn’t a nice person. He knew that. He didn’t want to be, but he didn’t know how not to be. He insulted Logan and Virgil all the time, he dismissed Patton, he villainized Remus and Deceit, and he wasn’t good for Thomas. He wasn’t good enough, and he knew that, but he didn’t know how to be better.

He didn’t remember when he started, but sometime after the whole courtroom disaster he’d started a list. 

The first time he wrote in it, he wrote down every single mistake he could remember making, and filled out eight full pages, front and back, of each one - big or small. After that, the additions were little, a couple sentences a day, things like “spilled coffee on the counter” “called Virgil a nightmare” or “was too loud when everyone was sleeping”. Things that he could strike through the same day, once he made it up, with a little note next to it saying what he did. Things like “complemented Virgil’s nail polish” “cleaned counters and made more coffee” or “tucked everyone in after movie night without waking them”. At the same time, he kept track of every good thing he did, a few things like “made lunch, they liked it” “listened to Logan’s rant about disrespecting phobias” and “cleaned up the living room”. 

His list just grew. He started making it more like a chart, with three columns - the first for mistakes, the second for things that made up for them, and the third for the good things that weren’t negated. He always strived to have at least three in the third column at the end of the day.

Depending on the size of the mistake, he’d write it multiple times, and if someone was still mad at him it counted as another mistake even if he’d thought he’d made up for it. The littler mistakes, things like accidentally forgetting to brush his hair or leaving the microwave open, those were written smaller. The same went for the good things he did, but they were hardly ever big enough to satisfy him.

His list was kept in a small, worn notebook that he carried with him everywhere. Not in his pocket - ha, his prince costume didn’t even  _ have  _ a pocket - but in a little sheath on his belt, next to his katana. He always carried a pen with him. Not a pencil; there was no erasing mistakes like they’d never happened, it was always there, just… made up for. Equal to. Overshadowed. At least, that was how things were supposed to go, but sometimes it was hard because no one seemed to want to forgive him very easily for things, no matter how many things he did to make up for it.

The others had noticed his notebook, and had seen him write in it several times every day, but after they’d first asked about it and he’d said it was because “inspiration waits for no one!” they didn’t really question it anymore. Technically, it was only a partial lie - he did write down his ideas, because they counted as good things. They didn’t make up for mistakes (unless the mistake was “didn’t have an idea for Thomas” or “creative block”), so they always went into the third column. 

It never seemed to be enough. Virgil would bring up a mistake he’d made and made up for weeks ago, and he’d have to write it down again so he could make up for it again, and then he’d bring it up  _ again  _ a few days later and he’d have to start the process all over again. He’d find out that when Patton had forgiven him a few days ago, he hadn’t really meant it and was still hurt, and then he’d have to write it down. He’d make up for mistakes, only for Logan to chastise him and Virgil to hiss at him and Patton to give him that disappointed look, and he’d have to write it down. He didn’t know why it wasn’t enough - maybe they didn’t think that his good things were good enough? Maybe he was underestimating how big his mistakes were?

That couldn’t be right, because one time, he’d called Logan a robot, and then he’d apologized, paid attention to his powerpoint later, made his coffee exactly how he liked it, complemented his ability to get work done, and let Logan choose the movie at movie night - and then at the end of the day, he’d say goodnight, and he’d catch Logan muttering, “I’m not a  _ robot.”  _ Surely it hadn’t been such a big mistake?  _ Surely,  _ he’d made up for it. Right? Apparently not. He wrote it down again. 

Soon, he started finding more and more mistakes. Virgil would complain, “Your smile is giving me a headache.” Logan would comment on the untidiness of his attire. Patton would sigh disappointedly when he skipped the bottom step. And he hadn’t even thought those were mistakes before! No wonder no one liked him. He toned down his smile, made sure his clothes were immaculate, and he never skipped the bottom step again, but the mistakes just kept growing. 

He was spending all day working to make up for mistakes, helping Virgil out of panic attacks, making breakfast so Patton could sleep in, helping Logan with the scheduling, complimenting everyone, brainstorming ideas for Thomas, cleaning up every mess he saw, fixing every squeaking hinge, washing the windows, mopping the floor, making sure everyone had a say in every decision, not saying what he thought because his opinions always ended up hurting  _ someone…  _ he barely slept anymore, too busy filling in the middle column and getting at least  _ one  _ thing in the third, because if he ever had less than that… he wouldn’t be good enough.

After the wedding, after De- _ Janus  _ revealed his name, after he’d laughed at him and found out that he wasn’t Thomas’ hero anymore? He realized that he had even more mistakes than he’d thought. 

He shut the door quietly - no slamming, it made Virgil panic - and locked it. He was crying silently, shoulders shaking and tears streaming down his cheeks, and his trembling hands were already pulling out his notebook and pen. He could barely see, but he dropped onto his chair and slammed his list down on his desk - no one could hear. 

De- _ Janus  _ wasn’t evil now. No, he had  _ never  _ been evil. He should’ve known, it was what had happened with Virgil, after all. 

He’d laughed at his name. It was a nice name. He didn’t mean to laugh, he  _ didn’t.  _

Roman let out a choked sob, hand shaking as he wrote  _ ‘laughed at Janus’ name’  _ again and again and again. 

_ Called him a snake _

_ Snake _

_ Snake _

_ Snake _

_ Snake _

_ Called him evil _

_ Evil _

_ Evil _

_ Evil _

_ Said we couldn’t trust him _

_ Untrustworthy _

_ Called him a liar _

_ Liar _

_ Liar _

_ Liar _

_ Liar _

_ Liar _

_ Made him unwelcome _

_ Unwelcome _

_ Unwelcome _

_ Unwelcome _

_ Went against him even though I believed him _

_ Betrayed him _

_ Betrayed him _

He kept writing, every nickname, every insult, every moment that he frowned at him or talked behind his back, his handwriting barely legible with his frantic pace and the tears blurring the ink. He was crying freely now, knowing that there was no way that he’d be able to make up for all of his mistakes by the end of the day.

He’d already failed Thomas.

_ Failed Thomas, failed him _

_ Failure _

_ Failure _

_ Not a hero _

_ Not a hero _

_ Not a hero _

_ Not a hero _

He’d already failed Patton.

_ Couldn’t protect Patton. _

_ Unsafe. _

_ Unsafe. _

_ Unsafe. _

He’d already failed Dec- _ Janus.  _

_ FAILURE _ _  
_ _ FAILURE _ _  
_ _ FAILURE _ _  
_ _ FAILURE _

It was too much. It was too much. It was  _ too much.  _ Too many mistakes, they were all so  _ big,  _ how had he not seen them!?

_ Ignorant _

_ Stupid _

_ Bad _

_ Evil _

_ Failure _

_ Didn’t even know _

_ Didn’t even CARE _

_ Evil twin _

_ Evil twin _

His mistakes outweighed his good. There was no way he’d be able to make up for all of his mistakes and have one thing good - no way. It would probably take years.  _ Years.  _ Just like it had taken years of mistakes that he hadn’t seen to build up to this. It was his fault -  _ his fault.  _ It was always his fault. He knew that, if he knew anything, he knew it was his fault.

_ FAILURE _ _  
_ _ FAILURE _ _  
_ _ FAILURE _ __  
_ FAILURE _ _  
_ __ FAILURE

He wasn’t good enough.  _ He wasn’t good enough.  _

Roman choked on his tears and dropped his pen, flinging himself and his chair away from his desk, swaying unsteadily as he turned and buried himself into his bed, heaving sobs and convulsing involuntarily with the aching in his chest. 

He’d tried. He’d tried  _ so hard,  _ and he’d still failed.  _ (Failure, Failure, Failure)  _ He didn’t want to be the villain… he’d tried…  _ he’d tried, he really had, he’d tried so hard and he’d  _ **_failed._ **

His fingernails dug into his skin and he dragged them down, drawing bright red lines that stung in the cold air, shaking so  _ badly _ and wishing that he knew how to be good enough.

At some point, he must’ve calmed down, because he wasn’t crying anymore. It still hurt, an ache in his heart that felt like it would drag him down into the deepest pits of despair, but he just… he couldn’t cry anymore.

He tried to think about it rationally.

If all he was doing was making up for mistakes every day of his life, while still making more that he’d have to make up later, then he wasn’t good enough. He shouldn’t have been making so many in the first place. Being good wasn’t supposed to take so much effort.

The best thing to do would be to remove himself from the equation. If he couldn’t be good… he had to be bad. But he didn’t want to be bad, so he had to be nothing. 

Nothing… it sounded… nice. Relieving. He wouldn’t have to worry so much if he was nothing.

And if he was nothing… then Remus would get the chance to be something. He’d finally get to be heard. Logan and Janus wouldn’t have anyone they’d have to fight to get their opinion heard. Patton wouldn’t be brushed away. Virgil wouldn’t be so insecure without Roman poking at his seams.

Being nothing sounded perfect.

It was too bad that sides couldn’t die, though. He’d have to do it the hard way, lock his door, stay in his room… without removing his influence from Thomas, because he knew that even though he wasn’t good, he was still the only side giving Thomas his romantic, creative, fanciful aspects, and he couldn’t push that on anyone else. It would be unfair.

Roman started without much hesitation. He knew what he had to do now, and it would help everyone. Him and them. 

He changed his door from hollow wood to solid, heavy planks, reinforced with intricate iron, and no doorknob. There would be a knocker on the other side, but only because he didn’t want anyone to get splinters if they wanted to ask him something for some reason. His floor went from carpet to polished wood - it would be easier to clean up any messes, and he liked it better. He changed his desk, made it bigger, changed the style from modern to medieval. He moved it so that it was under a tall, sectioned window that looked out on the Imagination.

Then, turning around, he made his large, wonderfully soft, beautiful four-poster bed fold in on itself, becoming a much smaller, twin-sized bed, that he pushed to the corner of the room. It still looked comfortable, but not nearly as much. It wasn’t necessary, and he wanted more room for everything else. 

Roman rearranged his various paintings, making a sort of gallery on one of his walls, which he changed from a plain white to stone, like a room in a castle. He made several more windows, a balcony, and a stairwell that went down to the base of the “tower” and out to the Imagination. Space worked differently in the mindscape, and he was never more glad for that than now.

He moved his bathroom down a level, so that the rooms beneath his bedroom wouldn’t be entirely empty, and he made it much bigger than it used to be, adding a vanity, a little table, and a floor-to-ceiling mirror. After all, Janus had made it clear that self-care wasn’t bad, and with all the extra time he would have… he figured it wouldn’t hurt. Across from the bathroom, he made a kitchen - it looked like that whole level would be more modern than his bedroom and the stairs - and added a small victorian-style table and pair of chairs. 

Going back upstairs, he took a deep breath and, feeling much better, went to his altered desk to finish writing down his mistakes with a more objective mind.

He was not a hero anymore… but he would not be the villain.


	2. Remy's Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone thinks Remy is confident and extroverted. They couldn't be more wrong...
> 
> No Happy Ending, Insecurity, Anxiety

Remy was confident, extroverted, and didn’t give a fuck what anyone else thought of him. He wore booty shorts and crop tops, leather jackets and ripped jeans; he had dyed magenta hair with a light layer of brown over it, and he always had a layer of makeup, though sometimes he’d put on a full explosion of it. 

He was an expert at exposing Karens - one look and they were set off, ranting about public decency, how awful homosexuality was, and how he looked like he slept in a different house every night.

He was a sarcastic bitch, someone who didn’t care if he got your order wrong because his mistakes always ended up better than the original. He knew everything about everyone, and while he was as loose-lipped as a whale’s blowhole, not a single secret escaped from his mouth. 

He’d helped two people propose, three people break up, nine people get together, and six people come out, not to mention he was the absolute best at switching pronouns at a moment’s notice. He never outed you if you weren’t ready, and if you were, there wasn’t even a second of hesitation before he was treating you exactly how you wanted to be treated. Needless to say, he was the one you went to if you had something you needed to get off your chest, something you needed help with, or if you wanted validation.

He was your ride-or-die, even if you’d only known him for a day - as long as he liked you, you were as good as any best friend. He was chaotic and unpredictable, in that he was capable of just about everything as long as there was a good reason; and sometimes that reason was just “it looked like fun”. He never seemed to care about the consequences, unless it would hurt someone he didn’t want hurt.

Once, he’d gone and bought an entire wardrobe for a stranger he’d known for about ten minutes, just because they said that they didn’t have enough money to get clothes that didn’t make them dysphoric. No one really knew how he got the money; he did work at a coffee shop, after all - but no one questioned it. When he wanted to, Remy was capable of absolutely anything.

Remy was a true neutral, living for himself, but inevitably helping everyone else in the process. 

Despite that, you never really knew him. Sure, you knew that his blood was essentially coffee and that he was a huge flirt, but you wouldn’t know his hopes, his fears, his past, his regrets. You never knew when he was upset, or when he was truly happy. You never knew when he was disappointed in himself, when he felt less than adequate, or when he was proud. 

You only ever saw the confident, extremely gay extrovert - because while Remy was the most open, honest person you’d ever meet - he had more secrets than you’d ever see. 

No one knew that he was an insecure introvert. No one knew that he only talked so much because he was nervous. No one knew that crowds exhausted him, because he was far too good at hiding his discomfort with enthusiasm. 

No one knew that his heart was always beating fast and that his breaths were always shallow, anxiety crushing his lungs as he cussed out assholes, flustered cuties, and infuriated Karen after Karen. They didn’t know that the only reason he was never affected by flirting directed at him was because he was far too nervous already to care. They didn’t know that he messed up everything he touched, and that it was only luck that made his mistakes turn out alright.

No one knew that he’d gone broke several times when he was buying things for strangers and friends, that he worked three jobs to make up for it. No one knew that sometimes he had to do less than savory things to keep paying rent without getting evicted. 

No one knew that he cared. No one knew that when he did things, he was constantly worrying about the outcomes, and the only reason he kept going was because someone needed him.

No one realized that he was, more than anything, altruistic. They didn’t know that his whole world was centered around everyone else, and that he was merely a tool to help others be happy. 

Remy was insecure and introverted, and yet, even his closest friends still thought he was a confident extrovert who just didn’t care.

He didn’t want it any other way.


	3. Roman's List (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus finds Roman's list, and makes sure that so will everyone else.
> 
> Open Ending, References to Psychological/Emotional Abuse

Remus hadn’t seen his brother in days. He’d asked Deceit - no,  _ Janus - _ about it, but he just said something about Roman being a petty brat and then walked away to join the lights for dinner. He’d spied on the lights to try and figure it out, but they didn’t give much information except that they were annoyed, Roman was being petty, and they were also happy because he wasn’t around to annoy them. 

And at first, Remus had accepted that, because the last he checked, Roman  _ was  _ a petty brat. 

But… he wasn’t certain anymore. It had been six days.  _ Six days.  _ And something just felt off about the whole situation. Now, just because Remus was Remus, didn’t mean that he went about ignoring when things didn’t feel right. 

So, obviously, he snuck into his twin’s new-and-improved room from the Imagination and started snooping while Roman was in the bathroom. From the sound of running water and Disney songs, Roman was going to be in there for a while.

Remus found it almost immediately. In hindsight, it was almost funny. But the kind of funny that isn’t actually funny, you just laugh because there’s no proper way to acknowledge how wrong something is. Roman’s book was opened on his desk, a pen next to it, and a few lines on the page. 

The first one said, “Didn’t show up to make breakfast.”

The second one said, “Didn’t make Logan’s coffee.”

And the next three said, repeatedly, “Didn’t apologize to Janus.”

Remus raised an eyebrow as his eyes flicked to the next column. It was empty, which was odd; why have a column if you’re not gonna put anything in it? But the third column had multiple sentences in it. 

“Video Idea: Informative video about different gender identities and why pronouns are important, get Joan, Talyn, and Quil to talk about it.” 

“Song Idea: mashup of protagonist and villain songs (Disney, obvi) with Sanders Sides singing instead of Thomas’ friends.”

“Helped Thomas with his friend-date.”

“Song Idea: second drawer to the bottom of desk, about looking back on the past and then looking to the future.”

“Helped Thomas decide what to eat for lunch.”

Remus frowned. This was  _ boring.  _ He turned the page backwards - it looked about the same. So did the next three pages. But when he turned the fourth, he saw it. 

When he turned the fifth, he was denying it.

By the time he’d turned at least twenty pages, he knew it. 

Roman was not a petty brat. He was not a selfish idiot. He was not a self-absorbed asshole.

No,  _ Roman  _ was fine. It was everyone  _ else  _ who wasn't. This was literally emotional abuse! Gaslighting! Blaming!  _ No one  _ was allowed to abuse Remus’ brother.  _ NO ONE.  _

With fury bubbling up inside of him, he picked up the stupid notebook and snapped it shut, glaring in the direction of the stairs -  _ stop blaming yourself, idiot! -  _ before he sunk out and appeared in the light side commons. 

It was, like, really early - six in the morning - so other than him and Roman, no one else was awake. That meant that when he slammed the notebook down on the coffee table, no one saw or heard, and no one saw him sink out again to go mess with Roman.

But not the fucked up kind of shit that the so-called “lights” did to him, the kind of brotherly fuckery that Remus had just decided was  _ absolutely necessary  _ to Roman’s recovery plan.

_ Wait!  _ He popped back up in the commons and conjured a permanent marker. Then, blood still running boiling hot, he wrote with angry slashes of letters:  **_DON'T FALL ASLEEP._ **

Yep. It wasn’t as much as he wanted to say, but he had better things to do. Such as fucking be there for his twin when everyone else was apparently part of the “Abusive Assholes Club.” Well,  _ joke’s on them,  _ Remus was starting  _ his own  _ club! He’d call it… um… “Fuck You Club!” 

There. Perfect. 

* * *

Logan woke up on the first buzz of his alarm, right at 7:30. He turned it off, slipped out of bed, and snapped himself out of his star-speckled pajamas and into his usual, immaculate outfit, thinking of increasingly difficult math problems to slowly bring himself to full mental capacity.

He didn’t have to do many of the steps that Thomas had to do in the morning - mainly because he could shapeshift, conjure, and he was imaginary. For instance, he didn’t have to brush his teeth, because he could just will them to be clean again. He also didn’t have to shower, for the same reason. However, he usually still did them - in the evenings. Just because he didn’t really like saying that the last time he showered was months or even years ago. 

So he was done getting ready for heading downstairs by 7:35, and he was heading downstairs at 7:36. 

When he stepped into the commons, he immediately noticed two things. First, Roman’s notebook was on the coffee table. Second, there was writing on the coffee table. Both were concerning - Roman  _ never  _ parted with his notebook, he carried it everywhere with him; if it was  _ here  _ then either something had changed or something was wrong, because Roman hadn’t been out of his room in days. As for the writing, that had definitely not been there before. Roman wasn’t the type to write on furniture, and that meant that someone else had written it. 

Logan walked forward, and as he approached the coffee table he started to be able to read the jagged letters - which were written in  _ permanent marker.  _

**_DON’T FALL ASLEEP_ **

He was baffled. Don’t fall asleep? But sleep was a highly important part of life, and maintaining a healthy circadian rhythm helped when one was dealing with depression, anxiety, grief, or sickness. If he didn’t sleep then he would start hallucinating after about 72 hours, which was not conducive to a healthy learning and teaching environment, not to mention that he would die eventually, whether from heart diseases or lack of sleep, which were both the same thing essentially when one was caused by the other - 

Oh. It was a threat. 

He eyed it for a moment longer as he picked up Roman’s notebook, and then his attention was fixed on that. 

He didn’t know why he opened it. He hadn’t thought of himself as a person particularly obsessed with invalidating someone else’s privacy, nor did he think that it would be very beneficial. Perhaps it was the presence of a threat that made him do it, because it was the only other oddity near the threat, and therefore had some part in it. 

Whatever made him do it, he did it, and he skimmed through all of the pages to locate any differences in writing or any excess paper, any notes, any clues. 

When he stopped to actually read it, he realized two things at the same time. One, it was not what he thought it was - it was a list. Of  _ mistakes.  _ Two, he was not the observant, objective person he’d thought he was; not if he let Roman get this bad. Not if he was part of the reason he felt this way.

How had he not noticed? He was Logic. Logically, he should’ve seen everything that Roman was doing for them. He should’ve noticed that they were being too harsh, that Roman was  _ the only one  _ who  _ didn’t  _ have any reason to apologize. 

He didn’t realize he was crying until he couldn’t read anymore, while his glasses were still on. 

“Whatcha got there, Lo?” Patton asked brightly from the bottom of the stairs. 

He looked up, and Patton gasped in concern, rushing over. “Oh, Kiddo, what is it? That’s Roman’s book, right? What happened? Are you okay? Do you need a hug? Am I asking too many questions?” 

Logan wiped away his tears and was surprised to find that… he was… angry. That was illogical; he was just as much at fault as Patton was. 

But… maybe that was the problem. Out of everyone, Patton was the dad.  _ Morality.  _ Out of everyone, at least  _ he  _ should’ve been able to see what they were doing to Roman. Logan, while he was the most observant, didn’t know a lot of things when it came to emotion. He had an  _ excuse.  _ Patton didn’t. 

He couldn’t bring himself to talk to him, he just thrust the book forward and stalked off, heading back upstairs to go knock on Roman’s door. Now that he was paying attention… he realized that this was the first time since Roman’s isolation that he’d come to knock at his door. 

He picked up the door knocker and let it fall. Once, twice. He waited, and as he did, he heard the muffled sounds of Patton sobbing into the sleeve of his cardigan. A spark of sympathy stabbed him in the chest, but it was nothing compared to the rest of the fire. Metaphorically. Obviously. 

The door was yanked open, and Logan jumped back, startled. He had to blink several times in a row to make sure that, yes, that was  _ Remus  _ answering the door and he wasn’t going insane. 

Remus looked downright furious, but he was smiling brightly, and his eyes were lit up. It was an odd combination of ecstatic and figuratively burning with rage that was… unsettlingly effective in disconcerting Logan. 

“Hi, nerd! Go away,” he said bluntly. 

Logan heard Roman’s voice, soft and somewhat rough, say, “He can come in, Rem.” 

Remus rolled his eyes and stepped back, opening the door wider to admit him. Logan stepped inside, and jumped when Remus slammed the door closed behind him. 

Roman looked… better. Logan hadn’t expected that. Roman looked well-rested, healthy, and calm; though he was also somewhat resigned, but Logan thought that that seemed more recent than anything. 

His room was vastly different: he had a smaller bed, pushed into a corner; a bigger desk; more windows; and a stairwell leading down. 

“So, Specs, you here to apologize or you here to die?” Remus broke the silence cheerfully, but with a clear threat dangling over Logan’s head. 

He shook himself out of his shock and nodded. “I’m here to apologize. Roman,” the creative side looked up, frowning slightly in confusion. “Thank you for everything. You’re… you’re a wonderful side.” He brought the heels of his hands to his eyes, which were watering excessively, and his voice grew tighter, more emotional. “I love you. I’m sorry I made you think otherwise.” 

Roman looked frozen, confusion playing across his face, like he’d never even considered this as a possibility. He didn’t know how to react. 

Remus nodded at him. “Good. Now leave before I bash your brains out of your skull.” 

Logan nodded and silently left the room. Remus hadn’t done anything wrong, not really. Maybe he’d knocked Roman unconscious a couple times, but at least Remus hadn’t emotionally abused him. 

When he returned to the commons, Patton and Virgil looked up with shining wet eyes and trembling shoulders, and it took all his willpower not to comfort them and to just walk past them, to the kitchen. 

They’d have to figure it out themselves.


	4. Virgil's Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton finds out that Virgil has spider traits.
> 
> Happy Ending, As of Yet One-Sided Janus/Patton

“Wait, so if you have scales, and Remus has tentacles, and Apathy has wings… does that mean Virgil has something, too?” Patton asked excitedly, looking from Janus to Virgil, who was sitting obliviously on the arm of the couch, headphones over his ears.

Janus was just telling Patton about what a pain it  _ wasn’t  _ to get Apathy to actually exercise his wings when he was being, well,  _ apathetic,  _ while eating lunch at the table _ \-  _ he was not trying to get Virgil’s secret thrust out into the open. And, of  _ course,  _ being the  _ very good friend  _ that he was, he lied, “Nope, Virgil definitely doesn’t have any animal characteristics  _ at all  _ and if he did, they would most certainly not be spider legs and extra eyes.”

He face-palmed. Why -  _ why -  _ it wasn’t fair! Why did he have to be the one who couldn’t lie to Patton  _ convincingly  _ to save his life? He was freaking Deceit!  _ Deceit!  _ The  _ literal  _ personification of lying! Stupid feelings, stupid crush, stupid everything. Now Virgil was going to hate him forever and so would Patton and he’d  _ never  _ have a chance.

When his hand slid down his face and he could see Patton again, the paternal side’s eyes were shining with tears and his mouth was turned down in a stupidly adorable kicked-puppy expression that stabbed him in the heart and made his heart skip a beat.

“H-he does?”  _ Oh no.  _ Janus had just ruined Patton’s and Virgil’s relationship forever thanks to his stupid crush. Patton dissolved into tears and shot up, running over to Virgil and enveloping the oblivious, now incredibly confused side in a tight hug. 

Well, that was odd, but Janus wasn’t in the clear yet… 

“Oh, Kiddo, why didn’t you tell me!? I’m sure they look great! Is it because you know I’m scared of spiders? Were you hiding it for me!?” Patton cried wetly, and now Virgil had pulled down his headphones and was squinting in Janus’ direction. He shrugged and shook his head, eyes carrying a distinct message -  _ yes, I absolutely know why he’s acting that way; no, I did not tell him, and if I did it wouldn’t have been on purpose.  _

Telepathy came with being best friends with someone. 

Virgil stiffened and scrunched his nose a bit, anxiety making the eyeshadow under his eyes grow darker and longer. “Um… P-Pat…”

Patton must’ve just squeezed him tighter, because suddenly Virgil looked somewhat suffocated and even paler than usual. “You don’t have to hide them from me, Kiddo!” he blubbered emotionally, and if Patton hadn’t already ruined Janus, he would’ve done it right then. “I love you just the way you are, spider legs and all!”

Janus finally breathed a sigh of relief when, a moment later, all eight of Virgil’s spider legs and both of his arms were wrapped around Patton, and said Patton, while his breathing did speed up and he was shaking just a little, held onto Virgil even tighter.

He wouldn’t be losing any best friends or crushes today, no ma’am,  _ go jump in a  _ lake  _ you stupid feelings.  _

Then Virgil shot him a four-eyed look that said,  _ you’re not in the clear  _ yet,  _ slimy snake. You’re doing my dishes for a month. _

_ Ugh, fine.  _ He rolled his eyes fondly and got up to put his dishes in the sink, and wash them, apparently. He didn’t really care that he suddenly had more chores - he wouldn’t give up Virgil’s friendship for the world. 


	5. Logan's Leaving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After so long of the sides and Thomas, ignoring him, insulting him, and pushing him aside, Logan finally snaps and will do whatever it takes to make them all listen. (Went a bit off script, sorry.)
> 
> Open Ending, Arguing, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Panic Attacks

It was complete chaos. 

“WE CAN’T LET HER KEEP GETTING HURT!”

“I _ KNOW!  _ BUT SHE TOLD US NOT TO!”

“IT’LL BE BETTER IF WE DO! HER  _ LIFE _ IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN HER  _ FRIENDSHIP!” _

Patton, Virgil, and Roman were shouting over Thomas, who was frozen in fear with tears streaming down his face, and Logan - who just wanted to be heard.

“She said that-” he tried, but Roman glared at him and snapped, “I know what she  _ said,  _ Robot, we were all there!” “But-” “SHUT UP! YOU DON’T KNOW ANYTHING!”

Patton was crying. “Did you see the bruises? Kiddo, we can’t let her go back there anymore!” 

“If you would just-” 

Virgil’s voice had taken on the doubled-over tempest tongue, and he was curled up with his hands clutching his head.  _ “SHE  _ **_TOLD US_ ** _ NOT TO! _ SHE SAID IT’D ONLY MAKE THINGS WORSE! WHAT IF SHE’S RIGHT, WHAT IF WE JUST HURT HER EVEN  _ MORE, _ SHE COULD  **_DIE_ ** AND IT WOULD BE  _ OUR  _ **_FAULT!”_ **

“This isn’t helpi-” 

Virgil rounded on him, anger tainting his voice.  _ “You’re _ one to talk, YOU’RE NOT DOING  _ ANYTHING!”  _

“BECAUSE YOU’RE NOT LETTING ME!” Logan screamed.

“Kiddo, you need to calm down,” Patton chided, frowning, with tear tracks still staining his flushed cheeks. “This isn’t - this isn’t something you can help with.”

“And why not?” he asked, bitterness tainting his voice. 

Roman sighed. “Because this is an  _ emotional  _ matter, not a  _ logical  _ matter. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Just because I don’t have a function that-” he began to argue, but Virgil had stood up and started screaming again. “YOU _ NEVER _ HAVE ANYTHING USEFUL TO SAY! STOP PRETENDING THAT YOU  **DO!”**

“He doesn’t mean that…” Patton tried, but Logan already knew the truth, so it was futile. 

They didn’t want to listen. They didn’t believe that he could understand emotions. They didn’t think that he was useful, and they didn’t want to let him have a voice. They  _ never  _ did. 

Roman scoffed. “I think he does,” the side muttered angrily. “I know I would.”

Logan’s shoulders slumped. He didn’t know why he even tried anymore, not when he already knew that they would never understand.

Patton had returned to the previous topic. “We can’t let her go back…”

Roman sighed. “I know.”

Virgil glared. “We  _ can’t!”  _

“How can we  _ not?”  _ Patton’s voice was strained.

“We can’t just sit back and let her get hurt, even if she told us she has it under control, because what if she  _ doesn’t?”  _ Roman pleaded, voice breaking. 

“But what if she does?” Virgil asked. “What if she does have it under control, and if we do anything, we ruin her one chance at fixing things? What if we make it worse? She could  _ die,  _ Princey!”

Roman hung his head. “I don’t know.”

Patton frowned, and turned to Logan. “Lo, wouldn’t it be better if we stepped in, even if she told us not to? Sometimes you have to do things that people don’t want you to, because it’ll be better in the long run, right?”

_ So  _ **_now_ ** _ you want my opinion.  _ He couldn’t say that didn’t hurt, like someone had yanked him up from drowning, only to dunk him back under. Metaphorically. Logan shook his head. “That is true, but we don’t have all the informa-”

“See?” Patton returned to pleading with Virgil. “It would be better to tell someone, even though she told us not to.”

“Yeah, but you cut Logan off!” Virgil gestured to him angrily, and for a brief moment, he thought that Virgil would ask him to continue - but he didn’t. “We don’t have all the information! This is a  _ life or death  _ matter, Patton! This isn’t a hypothetical anymore!”

Roman wasn’t looking at any of them anymore, seemingly too emotionally exhausted and confused to add anything more to the argument. Oh, and if Logan didn’t know how that felt… 

“Guys…” Thomas whispered, and Patton rushed over to him from where he was collapsed on the floor, immediately launching into comforting him, while still arguing, “We can’t do nothing, Kiddo. We can’t, you know that.”

“I know! But we can’t do anything either!  _ WE COULD MAKE  _ **_EVERYTHING_ ** _ WORSE!” _

_ “YOU THINK I DON’T KNOW THAT!?” _ Patton shouted back, starting to cry again. “I KNOW THAT BETTER THAN  _ ANYONE, _ OKAY!? BUT I CAN’T DO  **NOTHING!”**

Roman was shrinking back, shoulders hunching as his eyes flicked from Patton to Virgil and back again. He looked scared and upset.

Logan decided that enough was enough. Maybe Roman was mean to him, maybe Roman had silenced him time and time again, maybe Roman demeaned him to an emotionless robot, but the truth was that  _ Roman didn’t mean it.  _ He knew that. Why? Because Roman was the ego. Roman followed Patton’s example as best as he could. And  _ usually,  _ that was fine. Logan could handle that. But he couldn’t watch Roman learn what it felt like to be insignificant, silenced, cast away in the heat of the moment. 

He couldn’t let Morality and Anxiety keep shutting him out.

He  _ wouldn’t.  _

But he knew they wouldn’t listen, and there was nothing he could do, so he turned to Thomas and knelt down. Morality was too busy arguing with Anxiety to notice, even if his hands were holding up Thomas’ head and he was holding him close.

Thomas’ eyes locked onto his own. Logan nodded, though in response to what, he wasn’t certain. It just felt like the right thing to do. 

“Thomas,” his voice was calm, it was level, and it was quiet; but he knew that Thomas was listening. For once, he was listening. “Breathe in for four seconds.” Recognition sparked in his host’s eyes, and his chest struggled to expand. “Hold for seven seconds.” Logan counted in his head, but he only reached five before Thomas exhaled and inhaled sharply. “That’s alright. Breathe in for four seconds.” One, two, three, four. “Good. Hold that for seven seconds.” He reached out to tap Thomas on the arm as he counted in his head. “Now breathe out for eight seconds.”

His host struggled to breathe properly for a few more minutes, but finally got it under control with Logan’s help. 

“Listen to me. We aren’t going to do nothing,” his voice was firm. There was no room for argument, because that wasn’t what Thomas needed right now. Thomas needed a straight answer, he needed certainty, and Logan could provide it. “We are going to give Nessa a safe place to stay. We are going to offer our help. And once she’s in the right frame of mind, we’re going to talk to her. We are going to find out if there will be any major unpreventable negative consequences to calling the police. If there are some, we will wait, and come up with a way to keep Nessa away from her apartment as often as possible. If there aren’t any, we will tell her that we care about her wellbeing, and we will call whomever we need to in order to keep her safe. At that point, it doesn’t matter if she asks us not to, because we will know that her concerns are unfounded.”

He could tell that Roman was looking at him from across the room, a broken expression on his face as he gratefully listened to Logan’s soothing, controlled voice. He could tell that Anxiety was still arguing with Morality, that they were shouting over each other, their emotions getting in the way of rational thought. He didn’t look away from Thomas.

“Listen. Everything will be okay. She will be okay. You will be okay. We have a plan, and it will work. Everything will turn out alright.” Logan said. 

Then, there was silence, as Morality and Anxiety realized that they were the only ones arguing, and that Thomas was looking much better than before. 

“Lo…” Morality started, eyes shining, voice hoarse and quiet. Anxiety wouldn’t meet his eyes.

Logan stood up, anger sparking inside of him. His voice was sharp and cold. “Don’t.”

“I-” 

_ “Don’t.”  _ Logan repeated, brushing himself off and straightening his tie. He looked directly into Morality’s watery eyes. “Don’t pretend you didn’t silence me. Don’t pretend you care.” He looked at Anxiety. “Don’t pretend you believed in me all along.” Now he was looking at Roman, and his eyes softened. “Don’t pretend we’re okay.”

He swallowed the tears that wanted to well up in his eyes. His voice was going to be harsh. There wasn’t going to be a shred of doubt in their minds that he was angry, and that he no longer wanted anything to do with them. His eyes traveled to Anxiety. “Maybe you’ll finally listen if I become something you can’t ignore.”

He glanced down at Thomas, whose eyes were wide, and his voice softened marginally. “I don’t belong here. I’m not a light side anymore.” 

“Logan…” Thomas sounded heartbroken. 

“Don’t.” Logan’s voice was gentle. “I know it sounds like a lot, but I’ll still be there whenever you need me.”

“So, what, you’re a dark side now?” Anxiety asked, his words sharp but his tone upset and pleading. 

Logan straightened. “No.” The dark sides had not listened to him either, in the few times that they’d seen each other. “I am Logic. I am neutral. Don’t be surprised when I don’t let you ignore me anymore.”

Roman looked at him with a complicated, unreadable expression, but when he spoke it was nearly silent, raw, filled with nothing but dejection and hope.  _ “Can I come with you?”  _

He smiled slightly, softly. “Of course.”

He went to Roman’s side and placed a soothing hand on his shoulder. With one last, reassuring smile, he turned to the others and said coldly, “I will not hesitate to make you listen, by any means available. It would be worthwhile to spare me the trouble.

“I’m going to my room.” 

He sank out, leaving Roman to make his own goodbyes. 


	6. Logan's Leaving (Part 2) - Roman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan creates the Neutral Side, and Roman adjusts to his new life.
> 
> Happy Ending, Some Yelling, Referenced Gaslighting

There wasn’t much to do, to leave the Light Side. Logan just… removed his and Roman’s rooms, including their dreamspaces and Roman’s Imagination, from the area. It was simple, since they were metaphysical aspects of Thomas’ personality, and not human beings, and were therefore exempt from the laws of physics and logic. (As much as it irked him at times, it did have its uses.)

The thing was that while there was a Dark Side and a Light Side, there wasn’t necessarily a Neutral Side. Sure, there were various sides that didn’t interact with anyone and didn’t have doors attached to either side, but they didn’t really get together and make a new side, they were just… scattered. Like Sleep, who spent most of his time out in the physical world, invisible to everyone, like a ghost; or Dr. Picani, who had an office with doors attached to both sides, and did therapy for anyone who came. 

So this was… a revolution, of sorts. Logan didn’t like that term, because it made it sound a lot more of a “big deal” than it was, but in the literal definition of the term, it fit.

He had to be careful, when he removed their rooms, because it was like a switch - it was hard to get it to stop in the middle; once detached, it wanted to latch onto the opposite side. But he managed it, and allowed himself a quiet smile of pride before he got to work on building a new commons, since he couldn’t very well have brought the Light Side’s commons with him.

He built a kitchen, a dining room, a living room, a bathroom, and a closet. Whereas the Light Side had a hallway upstairs that attached to all of their rooms, Logan made the Neutral Side without a hallway  _ or  _ stairs. There were only two sides who were going to be living here, after all; it would’ve been illogical to include a hallway when he could just put the doors directly attached to the living room. He didn’t include any details - he figured that Roman would enjoy doing that part much more than he would - just the rooms and the barest furniture. 

The one thing he  _ did  _ make sure of, however, was that the walls were painted with less… blindingly bright colors; using pale colors mixed with gray instead. He’d rather not have to deal with headaches every time he stepped outside his room.

When he was done, it didn’t look anywhere near as homely as the Light Side, but he knew that once Roman was done saying goodbye, he wouldn’t have very long to worry about that.

Sure enough, when Roman came out of his room, tear tracks evident on his face and noticeably upset, Logan only had to wait a few minutes before the creative side was decorating. It was honestly very… cathartic to watch. Roman’s dulled eyes slowly regained their usual passion, and then a vigor that he hadn’t seen in them in a while, as he rushed about, changing the tone of one thing, making accents, changing the styles of certain objects and then summoning new ones. Roman was completely absorbed in his work, and it was fascinating how the neutral commons were shifting so fluidly under his hands. 

Logan didn’t once look away, though he did stand up and walk to the corner of the room when Roman started in on the dining room where he’d been seated. 

He noticed how Roman seemed to be considering everything before he finally decided on something. He noticed how everything seemed to be a mix of what Roman liked and what he liked: mahogany bookshelves lining one of the living room walls, the books with  _ objectively  _ beautiful bindings and gold accents; the coffee table sturdy and smooth, yet designed with swirling supports that were arguably fascinating; the couches practical yet decidedly the best cross between soft and firm; no carpet, but a few rugs here and there; cabinets made of polished dark wood, with simple designs and ornate handles; and chairs with both practicality and comfort taken into consideration.

He didn’t realize that three hours had passed until Roman had finished, breathless and  _ objectively  _ the most stunning creature in existence -  _ where did that come from -  _ and looked up, only to jump when he saw that he was still there, giggling nervously. 

He adjusted his tie and cleared his throat. “Thank you. I admit that this… is… so much more than adequate.”

The way Roman’s face lit up made his embarrassment worth it.

* * *

_ “ _ _ How could you!? You’re just being dramatic! Stop being so attention-seeking for once in your life, will you!?” _

_ “But R-Roman… we love you…” _

_ “God, you’re so selfish!” _

_ “You’re not…  _ really  _ leaving, right Kiddo?” _

_ “I… I am. I don’t - I just - I can’t. I can’t be whatever it is you want me to be. I’m… I’m… no. I’m - I’m not sorry. I’m leaving. I can’t - I shouldn’t have to.” _

_ “Jeez, Princey. I can understand… I can understand  _ Logan  _ but  _ you?  _ You’re fine. Suck it up, it’s not a big deal.”  _

_ “Kiddo… why?” _

_ “...I’m leaving.” _

_ “You said.” _

_ “No. I’m  _ leaving.  _ I can’t handle this.” _

“Hey.” Roman caught Logan before he disappeared into his newly relocated room. He turned, eyebrow raised, a soft yet curious expression resting on his face. Roman swallowed. “Thank you. Logan. And… I-I’m sorry… for what I did.”

Logan smiled, slightly strained, but genuine nonetheless. “I accept your apology. And… you’re welcome.”

_ Heartbreak on Patton’s face. Annoyance and anxiety on Virgil’s. Softness and worry and… pride, in Thomas’ eyes. Nervousness and hurt in his own eyes. _

Roman nodded, and then he was alone in the commons - the  _ Neutral  _ Commons. He couldn’t deny how… freeing that felt.

* * *

As it turned out, Logan had designed the Neutral Side so that there was a door in between the other two sides that led to their commons. In the… hallway between, Roman supposed. This turned out to be a very useful feature - having a door meant that no one could just  _ rise up  _ in the Neutral Side unless they had permission, and that they could just knock on the door to state their case.

The most frequent visitor was Patton. He came by the day after the big change and never stopped coming, blurting out apologies and reassurances and guilting questions about whether they  _ really  _ wanted to leave him and Virgil all alone. Roman was often the one to answer the door, since Logan was busy basking in the quiet and finally getting work done while recharging from his emotional outburst, and he quickly became desensitized to  _ Morality’s  _ gaslighting puppy-dog eyes and guilting words. In fact, on the fifteenth day, Roman got so irritated by it that he said he wouldn’t answer the door unless it was an emergency, and that he wouldn’t respond to anything except Prince, Creativity, or Passion. 

Virgil hadn’t come by at all, which wasn’t surprising, to be honest. Even if he was feeling guilty, he’d probably be too anxious to actually come and apologize. Deceit hadn’t come around either, except about three weeks in Roman found a book on philosophy with a note that said simply “for Logic” and he knew it could only be the scale-faced side. 

As for Remus? Well, he became a regular nuisance in the Imagination, pestering Roman every time he came with a river of ideas and a mountain of energy. After a while, Roman had gotten used to Remus’ input, and actually found himself regularly asking his twin to join him on quests in the Imagination. 

That is, after he’d poked and prodded Roman incessantly while asking why he was suddenly not a light side anymore, and made a good number of jokes about how there were two evil twins now and that Roman had  _ failed.  _ After a few hours of harassment, Roman had lost it, screaming and shouting and trying his best to hurt his twin -

_ “CAN YOU JUST  _ **_LEAVE IT!?_ ** _ They didn’t WANT me, okay! They only wanted what they could MAKE me!” _

\- and apparently that was the right thing to do, because suddenly Remus actually  _ liked him now?  _ Yeah, he didn’t understand it either, it was just weird. A good kind of weird.

Logan got summoned a lot during that month. From what he told Roman, he apparently only answered summons from Thomas, whether it was their host making sure that he was okay, asking for advice, or just wanting to hang out. If any of the others were there, he mentioned offhandedly one day that he just asked them to refer to him as Logic and to focus strictly on business. Not that it worked, right away, at least. 

Roman… did not get summoned a lot during that month, to put it lightly. None from Patton, none from Virgil - though that one was to be expected - and none from the dark sides. (Remus always just popped in unannounced,  _ somehow.)  _ And as for Thomas? Well… that was his only supply of summons. Sometimes Thomas would summon him for ideas, or for help in the romantic field, and sometimes he would summon him just to hang out - but that’s where Roman differed from Logan. He didn’t think he’d be able to just “hang out” with Thomas, not when any of the other sides could and  _ did _ pop in and roll their eyes, sigh, or give him a hurt look. For Logan, it was different; they didn’t treat Logan like he was a stuck-up attention seeker, and Logan was actually good at interacting with the sides with a strictly formal tone. Roman couldn’t. The best he could do was be angry, and even that took effort, when all he felt was  _ hurt.  _

After that month, it got easier. Roman updated his wardrobe to include silk gloves and heavy cloaks, because it helped ground him when he felt like crying or dissociating from the sudden loss of Patton and Virgil. He got better at acting irritated and unaffected by their looks and comments. They finally started calling him Passion instead of Roman. Logan changed his wardrobe too, with Roman’s help, and now he wore more old-fashioned clothing; things that someone might expect to find in a costume rack when the cast was performing Hamilton, though without the ruffles and the wigs, and Logan decided that he wanted to go by Curiosity rather than Logic. 

Late at night, when they were both just sitting on the couch sipping hot cocoa, Logan admitted that it was because being called “Logic” just held too many bad memories. 

Living with Logan, and no one else (except a stubbornly crazy twin), was… weird. Roman was used to going downstairs to get to the commons, and now there weren’t any stairs at all. He was used to Patton making breakfast for all of them, and now it was only ever him or Logan who made meals. He was used to sitting next to Virgil and having bantering sessions bordering on insults. He was used to a lot of things, and now, he had to get used to a lot more things.

On his birthday, they had a relatively quiet party. It would’ve been Remus’ birthday too, but really, the twins never celebrated their birthday on their actual birthday, they both just chose random days once a year to be their birthdays. 

They had cake -  _ but since when is Logan a baker? And a flipping good one at that?  _ \- and a few presents, including a pen that looked like a quill from Logan, a very suspicious box that he didn’t dare open from Remus (“What? I  _ promise  _ it’s nothing  _ too  _ gross~” “...” “Yeah I don’t trust it.” “Suit yourself!” with  _ lots  _ of concerning giggles) and when De-Janus stopped by later in the day, he received a brand-new sword with a golden sheen and rubies embedded in the hilt.

_ “I definitely didn’t make this for you, and if I did, it wouldn’t match your aesthetic at all, and it would most definitely be a joke,” he said with uncharacteristic nervousness, the sarcasm laid heavily over it in an obvious attempt to “retain his dignity”. “Have a horrible birthday.” _

That one made him cry, and effectively removed any remaining resentment towards Janus from him. 

There were also two presents outside of the door, one wrapped in baby blue wrapping paper and the other in purple. He debated about it for a few minutes, but in the end he decided that it wouldn’t hurt to open them, and the nail polish collection from Virgil and the golden feather earrings from Patton were worth it. 

After presents, they started binging all of his favorite Disney movies, doing their favorite activity - pointing out the inconsistencies and coming up with better plotlines, writing them down, and setting them aside just in case Thomas ever decided to use it, while Remus made them all snicker at the surprising amount of innuendos contained in the movies and…  _ not…  _ contained in the movies. 

The day ended in a dog pile in the middle of a blanket fort, with him next to his family, full of cake and feeling like a helium balloon over a city - elated, light-hearted, and like everything was just the way it should be. 

It was - objectively, as Logan would say - the best birthday Roman had ever had.

And when Remus approached him a week later, asking uncharacteristically hesitantly if he could move in, he took it upon himself to move his brother’s room and Imagination to the Neutral Side - the dark green door right next to his dark red one. 


	7. Remus’ Logan and Unsympathetic Roman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An Intrulogical Slave AU. 
> 
> Remus is the only person in the Prince family who doesn’t agree with slavery, and Logan is the slave he fell in love with. Roman is the image of perfection - that is, cruel to the slaves and good at conversation. 
> 
> No Happy Ending (It’s only Part 1), Graphic Depictions of Violence, Minor Character Death, Gore, U!Roman, Flashbacks, Logan has no Tongue, let me know if I need to tag anything else!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday JDeelightful@Ao3! Hope I measured up to your expectations. ;)

_ Metal against metal, sounds of clashing and fighting rang through the air, it was just a normal day - just a normal - just - it was just supposed to be a normal -  _

_ It only lasted for a few minutes. Screams. Yelling. Shouting. Crying. He was by the well in the back garden, like every day, because it was just a normal - it was just supposed to be a normal day. He didn’t see it, he didn’t, but he heard it - he heard it all while he pulled up the bucket, heard it all, heard the screams heard the metal heard the laughter and the shouting.  _

_ He heard their screams. His family. He heard the sound of his older sister being killed, heard the way they laughed when she dissolved into blubbering tears and then choked, never to breathe again. He heard the sound of his parents screaming, trying to fight but losing, heard the sound of them dying. _

_ He was by the well, and he dropped the bucket, and he could still hear it ringing in his ears but it was just supposed to be a normal day, a normal day, it was a normal day but it wasn’t and he’d never have a normal day again.  _

_ He screamed. _

_ Laughter, they were laughing at him, cutting out his tongue as hot blood filled his mouth and overflowed, dripping onto the basil and thyme.  _

_ They were laughing at him, as his skin broke and bruised, they were laughing and the sound would stay forever, it was a normal day - but it wasn’t, it never was, it would never be, never again. He heard their screams when he screamed, he didn’t want to, he stopped screaming. They were laughing. Laughing, as he sobbed and cried and bled and bled, as he tried desperately to escape. _

_ They were laughing. They always laughed. He wasn’t funny, it wasn’t funny, he didn’t know why they were laughing. He didn’t want them to. When they laughed it reminded him of metal on metal and screams and blood. He did everything he could. _

_ They laughed, when they locked him up, shacked his ankle and shoved him to the floor. It was cold, and wet, and he could feel it through his thin tattered clothes. He cried and cried, he missed his voice, he wanted to tell his family he was sorry, he wanted to plead with the soldiers to let him go, but he couldn’t, he couldn’t, and he never would again. _

_ Day after day after day… it hurt, it hurt so much, but it stopped hurting after a while because he was just numb. Even though his skin was discolored, even though his bones had broken and mended several times over, even though his back was a criss-cross of scars and bloody red lines, even though he had a thousand words running through his head that screamed that he shouldn’t have lived, that he was a coward, that he was stupid, dumb, gross, dirty, skinny, that he was worthless… even through it all, he was numb, and he could still hear the screams but it didn’t matter anymore. _

_ They were laughing when they shoved him forward and sold him for a single coin, laughing when his face stung with a pulsing red handprint, laughing, even when he was gone. Laughing, always laughing, he never wanted to hear it again. _

* * *

Remus slipped through the fancy-fancy, boring halls, completely silent, walking right past the servant watering the window flowers without them looking up. Normally, he wouldn’t bother with sneaking past the servants - most of them let him get away with anything, because chances were, he was doing something for  _ them,  _ anyways - but this one was the Lady’s favorite, and she was quite the stuck-up prick. He didn’t really like her much, obviously.

He was very good at being invisible, he reflected. Sure, stupid Roman and Lady Elizabittie and Lord Romy-luss wouldn’t believe that, but that was kind of the point. If they didn’t think he was capable of it, then they wouldn’t try and up their guard.

Anyway, Remus found his way into the armory, which was a very much unused room that he liked to spend as much time as he could scavenge inside. It was dark, but he’d never had problems with the dark and he wasn’t about to start now. In fact, he preferred the dark to the too-bright, hideously colorful world. Too many colors always ended up hurting his eyes. 

He shut the door behind him silently, and immediately, he knew he wasn’t alone from the sound of muffled breathing. From the familiar sound of rough fabric rubbing together, he knew that it was exactly who he wanted to see. He giggled.

“Come on, Lo-Lo, you don’t have to do that,” he leaned leisurely against the heavy wooden door. “No one ever comes near here.”

Despite his own words, he spoke quietly, not whispering but not his usual loud, rambunctious talking. Just because he wasn’t scared of anything didn’t mean he couldn’t be careful.

There was no answer, which was honestly to be expected. Remus would be considerably surprised and worried if he  _ had  _ gotten one - Logan didn’t have a tongue, due to very  _ unfortunate  _ circumstances (those fuckers were very much dead now, he’d made  _ sure  _ of that, not that Logan knew) and, well, as most people knew; you need a tongue to talk.

Logan reached forward and started tapping Remus’ wrist, which was his way of communicating, and was actually fairly complex and impressive despite him being the only other person who took the time to learn it. ‘I know, love… I got scared.’

‘Why? Didja get a new one?’ Remus asked brightly - switching easily to tapping - while inside he was fuming. If it was that idiot asshole of a brother… 

_ Logan tripped as though in slow motion, the food he was carrying flying out and splattering all over Roman’s expensive new attire. Remus would’ve been tempted to laugh, had he not known just how bad this was for Logan. _

_ He could only watch as Roman angrily shoved Logan down, pulling at the short whip at his side and bringing it down with a crack. He could only watch as the blood spilled and Logan bit back any cries, as the guests admired Roman’s dedication to getting his slaves to be obedient, as the words washed over him and all he could do was watch, fascination and morbid anger apparent in his bright green eyes.  _

_ He couldn’t help it, not really. Blood was always so… stunning, to him. It made the thoughts that swirled through him quiet, and for some reason, it just… quieted everything. He didn’t like the feeling, but he couldn’t hide its effects, and by now most of his family knew about his… thing… about blood, so they often wrote off his lack of enthusiasm for punishments as part of that.  _

_ “I’m sure it won’t mess up again,” someone laughed. _

_ “That’ll teach it not to be so stupid.” _

_ “So proactive!” _

_ Roman started kicking Logan, and still, all Remus could do was gaze at the blood with that lost, blown away look, while he could still hear his thoughts screaming through the muffled fog, telling him that this was  _ Logan,  _ that he should be stopping it.  _

_ It would’ve been useless anyway. He couldn’t do anything, not yet.  _

_ That night, he snuck away to the slaves’ quarters and cleaned up Logan’s wounds, bandaging them, giving him as much medicine as he could get away with, and then feeding him. No one seemed to notice the bandages, probably because Logan was one of the few slaves that worked indoors, and therefore had to wear somewhat nice clothes - with long sleeves - at all times. _

‘...some bruises,’ Logan tapped hesitantly. ‘It was Lord Romulus. I was too loud.’

Remus growled deep in his throat. He wished that he could free Logan - but he couldn’t start freeing the slaves in his family’s mansion until he had already done all he could for the other slaves nearby. He had to stay inconspicuous, and if even one slave went missing, Lady Elliephant would know, and everyone would know it was him.

‘Asshole,’ he tapped angrily. Yes, he was the one to introduce swear words into Logan’s tapping vocabulary, and no he did not regret it. ‘I’ll kick him in the shins for that.’

More accurately, he would challenge the fucker to a fight, and then he’d lose - obviously, he couldn’t seem like a threat - but he’d get in a few good kicks. He’d done it before. It was actually pretty satisfying, even if everyone thought he was stupid for challenging people every other day only to lose every single time. He  _ could  _ win, if he wanted, but the moment he won he wouldn’t be able to fight anymore. 

Logan snorted. ‘If you want. How is the latest plan coming along?’ 

‘Oh, brilliantly! I can leave tomorrow, and I think I can get away with about six.’ Remus tapped, fingers moving so quickly he wouldn’t be surprised if Logan only caught half of his words. Then again, Logan had come up with it in the first place, so maybe he would be surprised. ‘I’m going invisibly, so no disguise, just a cloak; and I’ve been working on befriending the hounds - their owners are idiots, so they’ll listen to me over them - so the only thing to worry about is the excuse, and you know that that’s barely a problem!’

He was often out of the mansion, on missions to free slaves - he skipped over a few other houses consistently, so it wouldn’t seem suspicious that none of the Prince slaves went missing - and his absence was always excused by him going hunting. To reinforce that, he was actually very good at hunting, and he always brought back at least two deer and a few rabbits. He could’ve gotten a whole lot more, but he was still trying to keep his family from thinking that he was actually competent at anything, so he didn’t. Besides, he didn’t have all that much time after his missions for hunting, anyways.

The only reason people didn’t connect between the times that he left to the times when slaves went missing was because news travelled pretty slowly without slaves, and because he sometimes enlisted his friend Dee to free slaves while he was still “home”. 

Remus hesitated, then said uncharacteristically nervously, “Actually… I was wondering… maybe we can go together? I don’t think there’s much more I can do by staying here, and… I don’t like seeing you hurt, Lo-Lo.”

Logan started to tap a response, but Remus jolted, hearing the tell-tale swish of smooth fabric and a sharp inhale of breath that announced his stupid brother’s presence - and not only that, but that he’d  _ heard.  _

Things just got a whole lot harder.


	8. Wrath's Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The orange side "Wrath" escapes from his prison in the dark side of the mind palace and attacks Logan, while Remus and the light sides try to save Logan, Janus goes after Wrath.
> 
> Ending up for Interpretation, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Anger, Captivity, Bondage, Flashbacks, Major Character Death (but it's only Wrath), let me know if I need to tag anything else

Crixus was  _ done.  _ He was so fucking done with it all. His room was already destroyed, the walls dented, his piles and piles of summoned weapons lying battered and useless all over the ground. His bed, if it could even be called that, was just a mountain of splinters and fluff and strips of cloth. His dresser was covered in scrapes, and it was a miracle that it was still standing with how often he’d thrown things at it and then went and threw it across the room. His ceiling was filled with pencils and darts and shurikens, a product of his anger and boredom.

He couldn’t  _ handle it anymore.  _ He never could, but this was just the breaking point. Any longer and he swore he’d go insane, if he wasn’t already, and maybe he’d start taking out his fury on himself. He wasn’t quite ready to die yet, though - he wanted to make them  _ pay  _ for locking him up. Crixus wanted to fight, he wanted to kill, he wanted to hurt them and he wanted to see their faces when they saw one of their own dying in front of them.

He wanted to be able to finally make Thomas listen to him. He wanted to crush them  _ all  _ and he wanted everything that he’d lost.

But there was no way out. He didn’t have a door. There wasn’t a door, and his walls were too thick, and he was blocked from sinking out or teleporting. He didn’t have a way out, and that  _ absolutely infuriated him.  _ His blood was boiling, his vision was red with the flames of his irises, and he couldn’t  _ do anything  _ with it. 

He screamed in anger and picked up his dresser again, hurling it across the room and making the wood explode against the wall, ignoring the splinters that shot out and sliced his skin. It stung nicely, but he could hardly focus on that, not when he just wanted  _ revenge.  _

Crixus missed the days when he could beat up Morality and make Thomas absolutely lose it, throw a punch at someone, or scream in frustration. He missed tying up Paranoia so that he could do whatever he wanted, missed the pain and the fear on that familiar racoon-like face. He missed forcing Deceit to do what he wanted, a knife to his precious snake-scaled neck. He missed throwing Logic across the room, hearing the sweet sound of a snapping spine, hearing the blubbering pleas for him to stop. He missed the helpless looks on the Creativities’ faces, as they couldn’t do a single thing to stop him.

He hated how they’d managed to overthrow him and toss him away, lock him up, living their perfect happy lives without him in the picture. He hated how they were no doubt reveling in their victory over him, how they could pretend that they were better than him. 

He gritted his teeth and whipped around, slamming his fist into the wall. Years ago, it might’ve bled; now, it was too callous to even sting. How  _ dare they.  _ How  _ fucking DARE THEY.  _ They deserved everything that he wanted to do to them, and he would  _ not  _ show them any mercy even if they begged and pleaded. Crixus wanted to  _ rule,  _ wanted to crush them under his fist, and the only thing that was stopping him was this  _ fucking prison.  _

There  _ had  _ to be a way out. There was no way he was truly trapped. Even the nicest people snapped sometimes,  _ surely  _ he could do that, too. He summoned an ax and started battering at the wall again. Swing, swing, swing, he couldn’t stop until he was  _ free  _ and he could finally make them  _ scream.  _

He’d gone through this  _ same thing  _ every day for years, trying to break through but being unable to, feeling only the smallest wisps of anger from the other side of the wall. It wasn’t  _ nearly  _ enough. If only they’d get angry for once - if only they’d give in to the burning rage, he’d be able to escape. But  _ no.  _ They just  _ had  _ to work everything out, they just  _ had  _ to turn that righteous anger into guilt and depression. 

He growled, deep in his throat. It wasn’t  _ fair.  _ He wanted to escape, and one way or another, he was going to succeed.

* * *

It was orange. It was the color of embers bursting into fire. It was hot, and it stole his breath away when he felt it. It made his eyes shoot open, made the irises catch fire once more, made his fists clench around the newfound energy. 

Someone was angry. No, not just angry - not those pathetic little citric sparks that he felt ever so often - this was white-hot  _ fury.  _

Crixus pulled himself up from where he’d collapsed in exhaustion, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. He could see it. He could see the waves of rage pulsing from every crack in the walls of his room, lighting up the dim area, and he knew that his time had come.

Standing up straight, Crixus took a moment to summon a fresh collection of throwing knives and daggers, sheath them in the belt that hung lopsidedly around his waist, useless in holding up his perfectly fitted jeans. Then he turned to the wall, feeling the anger begin to warm his blood once more as he focused on concentrating the orange energy into something that would utterly destroy the walls of his prison.

It exploded, with a sound that made him temporarily deaf, with nothing but ringing in his ears and the pulsing of his burning blood.

He was free. 

_ Now… who to destroy first?  _

* * *

It was an explosion that shook the whole mind palace, picture frames dropping and shattering in unison, lamps tipping over and flickering out, sides losing their balance and dropping whatever they were holding.

Logan had been holding an empty mug as he paced his room, hair disheveled and eyes dark with anger as he recalled just how cruelly often he was silenced and ignored. 

_ THEY ~~DON’T CARE~~ _

_~~THEY DON’T~~ LISTEN _

_ THEY ~~HATE~~ YOU _

_ HATE _

~~_ HATE _ ~~

_ HATE _

_ THEY DON’T ~~CARE~~ _

_ SHUT UP, SHUT UP,  _ **_SHUT UP_ **

**_GO AWAY_ **

~~**_HATE_ ** ~~

~~**_HATE_ ** ~~

~~**_HATE_ ** ~~

His hands were clenched around the mug, knuckles white, and his steps were more like stomps with how heavily they fell. Then his mug was shattered on the floor, he was falling over, and his eyes were wide in shock.

There was only one thing that could have made that explosion.

And it was  _ his fault.  _

A flash of pain, a starburst of burning hot liquid, and his vision burns white.

* * *

Janus was standing in front of the door to Logan’s room, hand raised to knock. He couldn’t believe that everyone had brushed Logan off, on the damn side’s  _ birthday.  _ He didn’t even think they  _ remembered.  _ Maybe if they had it would’ve been a different story… but no matter. It had already happened, and all he could do right now was try to help Logan feel better.

Then he was slammed into the wall with an unmistakably  _ orange _ explosion that sent picture frames crashing to the floor and the world spinning, and a spike of freezing fear shot through him.

He heard a sickening crack - or maybe he didn’t, his ears were still ringing - and then Logan’s door was blown off its hinges and a brightly burning side he’d hoped to never see again stalked out with a twisted smile in between a grin and a scowl. Janus barely had time to throw an illusion over himself as Wrath stormed down the hall, and he was going to be eternally grateful for that, because he knew  _ exactly  _ what would have happened if Wrath had seen him.

_ \--sharp, dangerous, metal to his throat, stinging, blood dripping to the floor, angry tears slipping down his face as he raised a shaking fist to silence the others, a sadistic grin, burning eyes looking down on him, wondering if he was going to kill him anyway, ~~not knowing if he’d live or die--~~ _

He followed Wrath, determination setting his jaw even as his heart beat frantically and his legs almost didn’t obey.

* * *

Remus felt it, he heard it, he hated it, and when he went racing down the hall he was shoved to the side by someone on fire and then by someone invisible, the latter whispering harshly into his ear, 

_ “Don’t help Logan.” _

Then he was running down the hall and hopping over the splintered remains of Logan’s door, and then he was screaming as though he were the one dying because there was

_ BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD _

_ RED SHINING ~~PRETTY~~ _

_ BAD BAD BAD _

_ BLOOD _

_ RED RED RED RED _

_ SO MUCH RED _

_ BLOOD ~~BLOOD BLOOD~~ _

~~**_BLOOD_ ** ~~

and then there was

_ Paranoia-Anxiety-Virgil-Spider-Kitty-Fear _

and he was kneeling down and screaming, hands over his ears, and then there was

_ Right-Pat-Patton-Morality-Feelings-Heart-Puppy _

and he was 

_ BURNING BURNING BURNING _

and then there was

_ Brother-Ro-Creativity-Birdie-Passion-Dreams-Roman _

Remus couldn’t do anything, he couldn’t do anything, he was stuck again and he was watching orange and shadows and red and blood and hearing screams and Thomas was shouting and he couldn’t do anything - 

Then there was weight on his wrist and tap-tap-tap

He had to  _ breathe.  _

* * *

Virgil was in his room, irritation and anxiety mixing up nauseatingly inside of him as he curled up under his blankets.

Then there was orange. An explosion. He was on the floor.

His head spun, and fear was crushing him, even as he remembered

_ \--ropes, darkness, burning, laughing-- _

Then there was a scream, and he felt chilling clarity shove away the anxiety, and he was in Logan’s room with Remus. Remus was screaming, on his knees, hands over his ears. Logan was on the floor, barely breathing, two dagger hilts buried into his chest with three other wounds and a red and purple splotch over his right eye, arm snapped at an unnatural angle.

Virgil walked past Remus, eyes hard, and knelt down by Logan, conjuring bandaging before he stabilized the weapons and started trying to stop the blood. 

He couldn’t take out the daggers, they were bad but they were keeping the blood in. He couldn’t set the arm, he had to wait, but he could stop the blood and wait for help.

Remus was still screaming. The air was crackling with orange heat.

Patton came, shock and fear defining him, and Virgil looked up with electric passion glowing in his eyes.

“Stabilize the knives,” he said coldly, too lost in his determination to soften his words, and Patton just nodded numbly.

* * *

Crixus reached the commons and sunk out, fists clenched even as his mouth was grinning widely, teeth abnormally sharp and glinting in the orange-tinted light.

He rose up next to Thomas, out on a bridge made of concrete, over a ditch, all alone. Thomas startled and paled, stumbling back. “Wh-who are you?” 

And  _ fuck  _ how he’d missed that. The pure terror in a voice, wide eyes, pale skin, trembling limbs… 

He sneered and set his shoulders, shoving his hands into his pockets in mimicry of casualty, as he answered icily, “Crixus.  _ Wrath.  _ Anger. Rage. Whatever you  _ want  _ to call me, you’re  _ mine.”  _

“Oh no he’s not.”

He clenched his fists and growled, turning to Deceit with undisguised anger darkening his face even further. He forced a grin onto his face. “Oh?  _ Really.  _ I seem to remember that you can’t do anything to stop me,  _ Scales.”  _

A knife found its way into his hand and then he was shoving the  _ damned inconvenience  _ to the ground and pressing the blade against his throat, while Thomas fell to the ground.

Deceit snarled and shoved him off, and  _ oh that was  _ **_different,_ ** _ maybe he’d actually be a  _ **_fight._ ** Then  _ he  _ was the one pinned to the ground, and the knife was ripped out of his hold and buried in between his ribs.

His eyes burned even more brightly, and he took the wavering orange anger radiating out from Deceit and used it to slam the knife out of his hands. 

Crixus took two more knives from his belt, one in each hand, and rose to his feet, barely feeling the weight of the  _ weakling.  _ He hadn’t spent decades imprisoned doing  _ nothing,  _ after all - shouldn’t Deceit have thought of that before he locked him up with all his weapons, huh? 

Deceit paled, but clenched his jaw, and summoned a glittering golden-sheened sword. 

Crixus snarled and attacked.

* * *

Roman was summoning medical supplies and anesthetics, one after another, barely letting himself think between the exhaustion, the ache, and the fear clogging his breaths.

Remus was sobbing uncontrollably, curled up on the floor with his head hidden under his hands.

Logan wasn’t breathing. No -  _ no -  _ he was, it was just so weak. His pulse wasn’t strong, it was fluttery and erratic. There was so much blood pouring out of him, it was a wonder that he wasn’t as pale as a slate of marble.

Virgil was treating Logan, sewing up the worst wounds, attaching the IVs and jabbing a syringe into his arm.

Patton was holding the knives still, hands around them to stop the bleeding while Virgil worked, crying all the while.

Janus was standing, legs apart, a broken ankle, a deep gash in his right arm, sweat coating his forehead, left arm thrust outward, extended by the golden blade of his sword, ending in dripping red, splitting Wrath’s heart.

Thomas was curled up on the ground with his eyes shut tight and his back shuddering with the weight of his breaths.

Crixus was breaking down, shattering, fragmenting, dissolving into ashes that sank into the ground without a single speck of dust left.

* * *

Ire opened his eyes and looked down at his hands, covered in light orange fingerless mittens. He looked up, and locked eyes with his reflection. A soft, crocheted, pastel orange scarf. A light gray sweater. A peach-colored beanie. Black rimmed glasses. 

His eyes filled with tears. 

He was so  _ angry  _ and he didn’t know  _ why.  _


	9. Remus’ Confusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All the sides are in a relationship, and apparently so is Remus - but he’s aro. 
> 
> Happy Ending, Maybe Non-Con but Remus is Okay With It, Temporary Romantic Incest, Autistic Remus, Aromantic Remus, Asexual Roman (not mentioned), Not Explicit but Sexual Content (bc Remus), DRLAMP but really without the R, Swearing I Guess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s actually really, really fluffy, with humor and only a hint of angst, if you’ll believe me. Mostly it’s just Remus being Remus and Confused and kind of Amused.

It was weird, Remus decided, that all of the others had somehow decided that he was in a relationship with them. 

Four months ago, they’d all gotten together - at first it was Roman and Dee, Patton and Virgil, and one lonely nerd; but four months ago they must’ve sucked it up and confessed because that’s when Remus found them all fucking each other in the commons at three in the morning. Okay, so they weren’t fucking, but that cuddle pile was  _ not  _ platonic. He hadn’t revealed himself, obviously, because where was the fun in that? If they realized that he could walk in on them at any moment, then they would be more careful, and then he wouldn’t be able to get any juicy drama and fuckery out of them. 

One month ago, they’d finally told him that they were in a relationship with each other. Rude. They all sounded so stupidly sappy and embarrassed, too - extremely so if  _ he  _ could hear it - and like, there was something else in there? He had no idea what it was but they kept giving him side looks and their faces kept turning red when they looked at him. He’d never been the best at deciphering what people were feeling or trying to say unless they were really over-the-top about it, sarcasm was a language he could speak but not pick out, body language was a perfect mystery and “hinting at things” was something he could rarely pick up on. 

Red. Red faces. Red means mad, right? So… they were mad at him? Wow.  _ Rude.  _ Wait, Ro’s color was red. Ro was like… romance and shit. But they were looking at  _ him.  _ Like, what the heck? It couldn’t be romance then. 

At least, that was what he’d thought. A couple weeks after that, he realized that  _ oh, they treat me just like they treat each other.  _

That part was weird. Like, shouldn’t he know if he was part of a relationship? Shouldn’t someone have told him? Maybe they had? He couldn’t really remember. Whatever. That didn’t matter. 

What did matter was that Patton kissed him? Whenever he went into the kitchen while he was cooking? Virgil turned all red when he made sex jokes at the table. Roman kept giving him  _ flowers _ whenever he’d been working for days straight _.  _ Green ones! He’d thought that green flowers didn’t exist in Roman’s place. Logan gave him nicknames. Like “Cephy” “Re” and  _ gag  _ “Love”. 

Oh, and like, J-anus fucking… fucked him. Like what. The heck. Sure, he was always down for some down-in-the-dirty but usually it was just random figments in his place, not  _ sides.  _ They usually just thought he was too gross and didn’t want to. But then he just walked into the dark side commons, and saw Jan. And then Janny somehow decided that Remus wearing booty shorts and a crop top meant that it was fucking time? And like, he hadn’t even asked, which was weird because Double-Dee was always saying stuff about his consent was important and shit. He’d just fucked him. 

Which was even weirder because ~~while Remus did appreciate a good-old double dick~~ he was not usually down to be a sub. 

Wait… was that what that one conversation was about? When Lo-Lo started talking about borders and construction zones? …wait. It wasn’t that, was it? It must’ve been about boundaries and comfort zones then. 

No wonder everyone had randomly started talking about kinks and no-no squares. He’d thought it was just kinda weird, but he wasn’t really one to judge.  _ Oh wait,  _ so when they asked “what about you, Rem?”  _ they were talking about that!?  _

Jeez, why didn’t they clarify? Like, didn’t they know that he was shit at conversations? He barely understood applied English. There were  _ way  _ too many nuances for him; the only things that he could understand were complete bluntness and whatever, as long as he was paying attention and like, concentrating and shit. 

Well, whatever. It was kinda funny, actually. 

What had he said during that conversation again? Oh yeah, it was something like “I’d be down for  _ anything~”  _ with a really low sexy voice for the last word. Wait. That was probably why Dee-Dee fucked him. Huh. 

Oh, and then Logie asked him to take it seriously or something, and asked about fences. Weird. He thought he’d said something like, “Nope, there is literally nothing I’m not cool with in the fuck-zone, Lolipop.”

Yeah… that made sense, probably. Huh. That was so weird, like, he’d just said stuff and they’d believed him. Well, yeah, he was always super bluntly honest, but  _ he didn’t know what was happening around him,  _ like, 96% of the time. 

So now he was just laying on his floor (he didn’t have a bed, because beds were like, super uncomfortable) staring at his stained and scratched-up ceiling, thinking about how weird it was that he was dating everyone and he hadn’t even realized. Hell, he was dating his brother and he hadn’t even realized. He wouldn’t have expected Ro-Bro to be chill with incest, but you learn something every day, he supposed. 

He didn’t like romance much, he surmised. He didn’t like that weird mushy look that the others kept giving him randomly. He didn’t really like the gestures they did for him, like Ro’s flowers or Logan’s tendency to share his Crofters when he was all red in the face. He didn’t like the weird fluffy kisses or the random hugs or the wet words. 

Remus liked Jan-Dee’s kisses, because they were usually hard and rough and sexy. He liked Virgin’s, when the anxious babey got all red and bothered. He liked normal hugs and bickering and fucking.

So he was probably aro, then. Huh. Now that he was thinking about it, it was obvious. That was pretty normal for Remus - he knew a lot of things, but he often didn’t really draw connections between them until he had like, an aha moment. 

Huh. Weird. 

There was a knock on his door, and then Roman’s voice called out, “Time for movie night, Trash Rat!” 

Remus grinned and hopped up, snapping himself into his octopus onesie and letting out his cephalopod arms to fill the extra eight sleeves before he skipped to his door and pulled it open, forgetting about everything he’d just thought through in favor of their movie night. 

About five minutes later, Remus was sitting on the arm of the couch next to Roman, who had Patton’s head in his lap (not  _ that  _ way), with Virgil on top of the couch above them, Janus cuddling Logan who was on the furthest corner, with a bowl of popcorn with cinnamon and pepper in his own lap. 

After some bickering and a very obviously rigged vote, they all decided to watch  _ Rent.  _ Remus missed most of it, because he was busy thinking about washcloths and then dryers and then  _ people  _ in dryers and then people in washers and then drowning in general, which led to him thinking about what would really happen if someone drowned in lava, but then he remembered that lava was too dense so the person would just stay on top of the lava and catch on fire, and then the intro for  _ Rent _ started and he guessed at what had probably happened. 

He didn’t remember a lot of the things he said during the movie, because he often had a hard time telling when he said things out loud and when he was just thinking them, but he could safely assume that he’d made a dozen suggestive comments, a couple digs at something or other, and some disturbing facts. He was pretty sure he mentioned how he thought “five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes” was gross - ick,  _ romance _ \- but he couldn’t be certain. 

Then, later, when Collins was mugged, Remus probably said something about how he could’ve gone to a  _ gay bar  _ instead, because his thoughts were fixed on that for at least two minutes. And then he was also thinking what could’ve gone down there, and then there was some kissing scene - actually, maybe he’d been thinking about gay bars for longer than a few minutes, like… half an hour - and he scrunched up his nose because it was stupidly sappy, and then he remembered about his new realization that he was aro. Then he was like, huh, weird. He was aro. A-ro. It wasn’t like he hadn’t known before, but it was weird, like… that was a thing. That was him. It just hadn’t clicked before. 

And he was thinking about that for a while, and then he saw that really nice guy (what was his name?) and he thought  _ man, if I wasn’t aro I’d totally date him.  _

Then the movie was paused, and something was off, because everyone was kind of stiff looking, and Patton’s eyes looked kind of wet, and Roman went a bit pale. He didn’t really know what that meant? Like, pale as a ghost was a phrase people said, right? So Ro was scared, but that didn’t make sense. And wet eyes? Was Patty-Cakes sad? 

He blinked, looking at them in confusion. Or maybe not confusion. Worry? No, he didn’t feel worried. Irritated? Maybe? He wasn’t sure. It was probably just confusion. No, yep, definitely confusion.

“What?”

No one explained, and he thought he might have to start guessing, but then Logan said with an odd sound in his voice (was he sick? If he was, would he let Remus have the throw up?), “Aro?”

He nodded and frowned, confused. “Yeah? Why?”

“Remus,” Jay-Jay said slowly. “We’re dating.”

“I know, that’s so weird!” he exclaimed, grinning, because he wanted to finally share his thoughts. Why hadn’t he shared them in the first place again? He was sure there’d been a reason. “I didn’t even know until like two weeks ago!” He giggled, not noticing the looks of shock and heartbreak on the others’ faces. “Then like, Janny fucked me and I was like, what? And then I was like, wait a minute, and then I was like, how did I not see it? But then I remembered that, like, I never know what’s going on unless I’m super focused or something, and I don’t get a lot of stuff like body language or nuances, so I was like, yeah that makes sense. And then like today I realized that hey, I’m aro, that’s a thing that I am, and I knew before but I didn’t at the same time? It was weird.”

He broke away from his rambling and looked at the others, and they looked upset for some reason? Especially Dee-Dip. That was weird? 

Oh wait. Wait. He was aro. They were dating. Aro meant no dating. That meant breaking up…?  _ Right, that’s why I didn’t say anything! Because it would make them sad. Right? No? No.  _ He didn’t know why. 

“We asked you if you wanted to join and you said yes,” Virgil said, and it was kind of slow for some reason? 

He didn’t really remember that conversation. 

Then his face lit up. “Oh! When you told me you were dating! You like, asked me if I wanted to join, and I was thinking, join what? And then I thought about joining things, like gym memberships or debate clubs or orgies or evil villain gangs, and I was like, that’d be fun! Sign me up! And then I said yes.” He nodded, sure that he was right. Virgie didn’t look very relieved. 

“We had a discussion about boundaries.” Logan stated. 

“Oh, that one,” he nodded sagely. “I thought you were talking about construction zones and states, and then suddenly you were talking about kinky stuff, so I was like ‘that’s weird but okay’ and I realized today that that’s probably not what that was.” 

“Y-you flirted with us…” Patty said. 

He frowned in disbelief. “I flirt with, like, everyone. All the time.”

Dee looked super pale and kind of shaky, and he whispered, “I… did you… were you okay with it?”

_ With what?  _ Remus didn’t know what he was talking about. Dating? Flirting? What? 

“Oh!” He sighed with relief. “You mean when you fucked me?” Jan paled even more. “Yeah I’m cool, like, I was confused and shit and normally I’m the one fucking, but I wasn’t lying when I’m said I’m down for anything.” 

Dee calmed down a little, and Remus grinned again. “I’m like, totally cool with pretty much anything? But um… I don’t really like mushy gross kissy stuff?” He shrugged. “I guess that’s it, then. I still like flirting though, that’s always fun!”

They all kind of looked sad, when he looked. But he couldn’t be sure, because he was him, and he was really bad at trying to figure stuff like that out. 

Ro was the first to smile. “Okay. To be honest, I was kind of worried, because you didn’t really… like my gifts? The way I wanted you to?” Remus nodded in understanding, grinning, because someone  _ understood!  _ “And it might take some time, but it won’t change much, since we were already less romantic to you because you didn’t seem to like it so much.” 

Loli nodded, smiling a little. “That’s… true.”

“Okay…” Vee-Vee said. He nodded decisively. “Okay.”

Pappo smiled wetly. 

Janus stood up and walked across the three meters or so between them to crush Remus in a hug with all six arms. ~~He could always tell when Remus was unsettled.~~ “I still love you. As a friend. Maybe a little more than that. But Rem, just tell us when you don’t know what’s happening, okay?” 

He… he buried his head, into Janus’ shoulder. He hadn’t realized just how much he was holding back until he dissolved into wet, gross sobbing, sniffling loudly and shaking almost violently. He just… it was a wave of relief, and it had just crashed down over him, and he felt so impossibly elated and devastated at the same time… 

They didn’t finish watching  _ Rent.  _

That was his only thought before he passed out in the cuddle pile in their blanket fort, half an hour later, with Roman cuddled up to his side and Janus’ chest under his head, and the warm bodies of the others breathing, hearts beating, next to him. 

They hadn’t finished. 

But maybe they would. 

Later. 


	10. Remus' Logan and Unsympathetic Roman (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus is the only person in the Prince family who doesn’t agree with slavery, and Logan is the slave he fell in love with. Roman's cruel, and he's just found out. Deceit is Remus' best friend. They'll figure it out.
> 
> Hopeful Ending (but still not really an ending, there'll be more), Minor Character Death, U!Roman, Remus Acting Kinda Creepy For a Good Reason, Deceit Killed Someone But He Deserved It, Double Orphan Deceit, let me know if I need to tag anything else!

It was late enough that when Remus vanished from the armory, slipping outside, he blended into the shadows and Roman’s frozen, silk-clad figure didn’t notice his movement. 

Remus’ face was blank, mouth in a firm line, eyes hard, muscles ready - and then he sprang, launching himself forward, clamping one hand tightly around his brother’s mouth while the other pinned him to the ground along with his knee. Roman’s whip was knocked away, and he yelped in surprise, a sound that turned into grunting as he tried to throw Remus off of him.

But Remus was stronger. Roman was pinned, no one else was around, Logan was safe - and now Remus had to figure out where to go from here.

For  _ some reason,  _ he decided to lean forward and say with clarity and icy sweetness, “Don’t struggle, dear brother mine, it’ll only make things worse.”

Roman stiffened, but stopped struggling. Remus knew that Roman was probably in shock - first about his and Logie’s relationship, then about Remus’ strength, and now about his sudden lucidity as opposed to his usual chaotic insanity. As long as he didn’t give Roman anything familiar to latch onto, he’d have the easy upper hand, and he wasn’t going to give his brother anything. 

“That’s right, darling, just give up,” he said sweetly, like he was giving poisoned candy to a child. He didn’t particularly want to run with the “creepy faux-sweet mastermind” persona he was putting on, but acting like his usual self wouldn’t scare Roman as badly as something completely unfamiliar, and it was too late now. “Now, you’re going to come with me, sweetheart,” it felt  _ so weird  _ calling his brother  _ sweetheart  _ of all things, “And you’re not going to say a word. I have a dear friend I’d love for you to meet!”

Roman grunted, but Remus could feel his pulse, and his bastard brother was  _ terrified.  _

He slowly pulled back his hand - not the one over Roman’s mouth - and pulled a strip of bandaging from a pouch on his belt. He wrapped it tightly around Roman’s mouth and the back of his head, tying it with a difficult knot and a dab of sticky boat tar he’d been saving for something or other. Then he took the rope from Roman’s belt and started tying his hands behind his back.

Logan came out of the armory in the middle of his work, and stood rigidly - afraid - next to him. After a moment, he put his hand on Remus' shoulder (it was pure luck that he didn’t flinch) and started tapping. ‘What do we do now?’

Remus shook his head, finishing off the knot and moving to take all of the potential tools from Roman’s belt. He opened his mouth and started clicking his teeth together, since his hands were occupied. ‘Can you answer my question, Lo?’

‘Yes. Yes, I’d love to go with you, love,’ Logan answered, and Remus relaxed just a little bit. 

‘Then we take Roman with us. Set up a base, go with the old plan, then ask the ones we can free to help us free more and protect the base. We can use the old dungeon, it’s in the forest, and it’s underground - they won’t find it. Dee will be our man on the inside since I won’t be able to anymore.’ Remus said, and finally tore a strip of cloth from Roman’s shirt and tied it over his eyes as a blindfold. 

He stood up, pulling Roman up with him, and whispered softly in his brother’s ear, “We’re leaving now, darling. Watch your step.”

Roman shivered under his hands, and Logan winced. Remus shot him an apologetic look. There wasn’t much he could do about the whole situation anymore. ‘Lo-Lo, can you gather up the others? I want to take them all with us.’

Logan nodded and left, heading towards the slaves’ quarters, and Remus started walking, leading his brother with a hand holding the rope tying his hands together. “You shouldn’t spy on people, sweetness. It’s rude, you know. Maybe I’ll  _ teach  _ you better manners when I have the time, who knows? It might be fun to have my very own pet…” he winced at his own words - what was he saying!? Wasn’t he supposed to be the one who  _ didn’t  _ treat people like animals? - but in all honesty, it was better than what Roman did every day to the slaves, and if it was going to keep Roman from being a problem then Remus couldn’t exactly go back now. Besides, he wasn’t actually going to hurt his brother, he was just saying things to scare him.

The hiding place, where he kept the slaves he saved until Dee found them tickets out of the country, was about three miles away. It wouldn’t be a problem for getting there, it wasn’t hard to walk three miles, but it would be a problem to figure out how to keep Roman from making trouble on the way.

Actually, nevermind, he had a brilliant idea. He stopped walking, turned Roman around, and without acknowledging Roman’s angry questioning sound, he drove his fist into the spot just above his stomach, with a slight upward tilt, and then caught his brother as he collapsed, out like a candle. 

* * *

It was quick work to gather up the others, though not cursory, as they’d been waiting for this moment for a while now, so all it took was a meaningful look from Logan and the universal sign for “let’s go” and everyone was quickly and quietly packing up what few things they had, a couple slipping away to go inform the people on the night shift. After all, it wasn’t like Remus’ actions weren’t common knowledge among the slaves; he never hurt any of them, and didn’t even give them an upturned nose. There had been several reunions orchestrated by him and his missions, and while they couldn’t last long, they’d still happened. 

The only people who  _ didn’t  _ know were the non-slaves and the Lady’s slave.

Logan himself didn’t have much to bring. Just a stack of forgotten papers, a pen, and a small geode that he hadn’t cracked open yet. 

Soon, they were heading off, climbing through the windows in the kitchen, slipping off the roof from the attic, sneaking through the smaller gates in the garden, and then silently following Logan through the barley fields to the forest.

He had a substantial amount of things to think about. He was nervous, definitely - bordering on terrified. If they were caught now, there wouldn’t be any mercy for them, and Logan knew what “no mercy” felt like. He wasn’t keen on experiencing it anew. It took all of his built up endurance and practice in not showing emotions to stop himself from shaking so badly that he couldn’t lead them anymore, and even then, it was close.

Logan knew the way to the hiding place, but only in theory. He’d never been, but Remus had mapped it out for him once, and he’d done his best to memorize it. So far, he’d just led them all into the fields, where they were essentially invisible - they just had to reach the forest and they’d be safe. He was glad that no one was questioning why he was leading.

Then his thoughts turned to Remus, as they often did. He didn’t know how in the world someone as talented and considerate and brave as him could possibly exist, let alone having been born in the  _ Prince family.  _ When Logan had been sold to them, he hadn’t thought of Remus as any different from the others, and did his best to avoid him, because it seemed like he was the most chaotic and unpredictable of them. That had worked out… fine, he supposed; he was treated as he’d expected, with no room for mistakes and no place for opinions, and he was punished enough. 

Then things had started not lining up. The others would always subtly fight over who got assigned to Remus, which was odd enough, and when they noticed Logan avoiding him they’d just give him baffled, incredulous looks and shake their heads. A few more weeks into his new life, he’d gotten the chance to see Remus dueling someone. If he remembered correctly, it was a visiting nobleman. In the duel, he expected a lot of things - he hadn’t expected Remus to get in a painful nick on the other’s side, then get nicked himself a few times, then lose. It had looked… kind of underwhelming, in all honesty. It had looked like Remus was awful at it. 

But from the broad grin on the man’s face, somehow it felt like he was the winner, and the other the loser. Logan had brushed that off, but hadn’t forgotten; just like he hadn’t forgotten the way Remus had started bandaging his wounds, then slowly stopped, just staring at it blankly for four solid minutes. 

One of the other slaves had, when the visiting nobleman was out of sight, approached him and tapped him on the shoulder. Remus had startled, looking up in confusion, and as Logan tensed for the inevitable punishment - he relaxed and resumed wrapping his wound, with a nod of thanks to the slave. 

After that, Logan had begun to rethink his opinion of the chaotic man, and had slowly stopped avoiding him, but it wasn’t until he’d received a particularly… unsavory punishment that they finally interacted. Remus had just stopped in the middle of the hallway, zoning out on the blood dripping from his mouth to his hand, and then a few minutes later broke out of his trance and walked past him, slipping a bottle of antiseptic into Logan’s pocket with a wink and a grin.

It had been a couple years since then, and now Logan could hardly imagine what his life would be like without Remus in it. He’d “fallen hard” as some would say, and he was lucky that Remus returned his affections. 

Now that he was thinking about it, he wondered, again, how Remus had become so considerate in such an unsympathetic family. He thought back to his running theory, that Remus’  _ thing  _ about blood must’ve had something to do with it, and once again wondered how he’d go about asking. It wasn’t exactly the friendliest topic of conversation to have, and he had no idea if Remus was okay with that sort of questioning. 

It wasn’t important, was his conclusion once again. It didn’t matter because Remus was Remus, and there was no use speculating on the why, because Remus loved him, and he loved Remus, and that was all that they needed.

They reached the forest just as they heard the first barks of the hounds, and Logan smiled, because Remus had trained them to only scent out what  _ he  _ gave them, which meant that the malicious search party would all be led straight to the abandoned dung pit of a pasture (literally) a few miles away - in the opposite direction.

The others were less pleased. There were a lot of panicked expressions and frantic whispers, and Logan wished that he could talk aloud, so that he could tell them to be quiet, that they were fine. He waved an arm above him to get their attention, and slowly everyone realized that they were supposed to look at him. Once everyone was paying attention, Logan made the sign for “safe” - one arm on the other, the one on top lifting up like a trapdoor. Everyone knew that sign, even the nobility, because it was something every parent taught their child, along with the signs for “danger” and “quiet”. 

They quieted uneasily, but followed Logan without further protest, relaxing when they heard the barking and shouts dimming as the sounds moved further away. 

Logan returned to his thoughts as he navigated the forest, thinking about the hitch in the plan. Remus’ brother. 

Roman was… usually the cause of Logan’s pain. He didn’t like him very much, needless to say; Remus didn’t like him either. The fact that Roman had overheard their plan was concerning, and would’ve been disastrous - he knew he’d be forever grateful that Remus had subdued him before anything bad happened. Although… it was really, really weird to hear his love call Roman “sweetheart”, especially considering the fact that the two were brothers. He knew why, obviously; it was clearly a tactic to catch Roman off-guard and keep him that way. But it was just weird. Awkward, more than anything. It made him cringe to think about. 

He hoped that Remus would drop  _ that  _ act as soon as Roman was successfully detained. 

* * *

Deceit’s gloved hand met his forehead with a stinging, muffled clap. His hand slid down to the bridge of his nose, where he pinched it and took a deep, long-suffering breath. He looked up at Remus with a vexed, bi-colored glare.

“You’re telling me,” he hissed. “That your high-life scum of a brother found out about you and Logic.” Green nodded brightly. “And you  _ kidnapped him,  _ brought him  _ here,  _ leaving Logic to gather up all of the  _ one hundred and thirty  _ other slaves and  _ bring them  _ here, _ to the hill-house,  _ which can only fit  _ forty  _ if we’re pushing it! - and now you want to ‘refurbish’ the old dungeon into a new base!?” 

Green grinned and nodded again, and if that wasn’t a picture - a deranged reprobate bastard wearing the clothes of a nobleman’s son, holding a rope that was tied to an unconscious pretentious cad who’d just been dragged about two miles and was now just curled up on the floor,  _ unconscious  _ if he hadn’t mentioned that yet, while just grinning like a madman. Deceit sighed loudly and turned on his heel, examining the hill-house with a scrutinizing leer. 

It was a merchant’s house that used to belong to an old lady, before she died. Actually, it was more than that. It was a house that used to belong to Deceit’s adoptive mother, before she was killed by his adoptive father. Then it had belonged to his adoptive father - until Deceit had killed him, with a bottle of poison hemlock. It had been empty ever since Deceit had gone to find his adoptive mother’s sister’s estate, telling of a fabricated story of fire and death, made believable by the burn scars on the left side of his face. 

It was two stories, hidden in the forest because the merchant it had belonged to before his adoptive mother had appreciated solitude and a distance from society unless absolutely necessary. It had a garden all around it, overflowing with various edibles, and a shed filled to the brim with milled grain, roots, and salt-stored meat, all stolen from the mill a mile out from his adoptive aunt’s estate. The plaster and wood walls were overgrown with vines. It did not have nearly enough room for a hundred and thirty slaves. 

Green was right, which he would absolutely never admit. The old dungeon, forgotten deep in the forest with a century of being abandoned, had hundreds of cells. They could be repurposed easily, and then it would be absolutely perfect. The watchtowers - which were now only a dozen feet above ground ever since the Great Landslide - would be incredibly useful. He’d have to contact Insomnia about delivering a greater fraction of their raid loot to the new location, but once he did that and got in touch with Morality about food, the only thing left would be to track down the Doctor to cash in his favors. 

Wait, nope, he’d also have to go meet with the Guard. He wrinkled his nose. He hadn’t seen the Guard in about, what was it, three years? He was probably still upset about that…  _ disagreement.  _ Well. It wasn’t  _ his  _ fault that the Guard hadn’t trusted him enough to not care about his real name. 

He groaned as he realized that he’d just planned out Green’s entire idea without even resisting properly, but now it would just be counterproductive. He turned back to Green and rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He held up a hand before Green’s face could explode from how smiley and excited he was. “But you owe me.”

“Aww, you know you love me, Dee!” Green giggled, jumping forward to give him a hug, but he sidestepped and  _ gently  _ pushed him into the mud. He absolutely did  _ not  _ snicker. 

“Now, whatever gave you  _ that  _ idea?”

Green just bounced right back up and grinned brightly, and it was literally impossible to not smile back. Well too bad, because he  _ didn’t.  _ “I will give you  _ so many _ dead rats~ ”

“No, Green, no…”


	11. Remus' Logan and Unsympathetic Roman (Part 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus is the only person in the Prince family who doesn’t agree with slavery, and Logan is the slave he fell in love with. Roman's... something. Deceit is Remus' best friend. They're in the heart of a revolution.
> 
> Ambiguous/Open Ending (still more parts to come), Imprisonment, Mentions of Violence, Mentions of Killing, U?Roman, Internalized Homophobia, let me know if I should tag anything else!

Roman woke up, but it took a moment to realize that he had, because his vision was still dark. In the end, it was the feeling of cloth over his eyes, rope around his wrists, and the vague stinging sensation all down his back and legs, that made him decide that he was awake. For a moment, he was confused, he just didn’t understand what was going on - he was  _ Roman Prince,  _ why was he tied up and blindfolded like a common criminal?

But then he remembered. It was Remus. A cold shiver went down his spine at the thought of his brother - he’d  _ thought  _ that Remus was just an idiot. A crazy, creepy idiot who challenged people to duels and always lost yet  _ kept challenging people,  _ who looked at blood like he was in a trance, who was rude and didn’t understand social etiquette or what made slaves different from them. He’d almost thought of Remus  _ fondly,  _ because even though he was an idiot, it was stupid and dumb and endearing. 

That was apparently a lie. Roman could very clearly remember Remus in the armory, talking to a slave,  _ wanting to run away with it,  _ even though it was  _ male.  _ He could remember being tackled to the ground  _ effortlessly.  _ There was no way that Remus had gotten so strong in a matter of days, so it must’ve all been a ruse - and who was to say that all the rest of it wasn’t a lie, either!? Did he even know his brother? 

_ “You shouldn’t spy on people, sweetness. It’s rude, you know.” _

He whimpered, and was glad for the gag in his mouth, because  _ a Prince didn’t show weakness. _ Remus had sounded so  _ different,  _ it was - it was - it was  _ terrifying.  _ He didn’t know what Remus would and would not do anymore, hell, Remus had  _ threatened to make him a pet.  _ Remus had - he’d  _ knocked him out.  _ He’d kidnapped his own brother, seemingly without reservation. 

Roman was so  _ confused.  _ He tried to push it to the back of his mind, but Remus’ words were still echoing in his mind as he heaved himself up to a sitting position. Wherever he was, the ground was cold and damp, and when he strained his fingertips behind him to feel it, he realized that it was stone, with a layer of somewhat damp dirt over it. The air was cold, too, and it smelled like a cave. He startled - he was in the old dungeon, he was sure of it. 

“Oh, great, he’s awake,” someone muttered, sounding irritated. He didn’t recognize the voice - wait. Wait. That was that one slave, the one with red hair. What was  _ it  _ doing here? Wait. Remus - he must’ve taken it with him somehow. How many did Remus have? How did he control all of them when he couldn’t even look at blood without zoning out and forgetting where he was? He growled behind the gag, because  _ that was probably a lie too.  _

“Yeah. How Remus doesn’t want that bloody bastard dead is beyond me, he certainly hates him enough,” someone else replied. He didn’t recognize that one, but it made him shudder. Remus hated him.  _ What was going to happen to him!?  _

Roman tried to get up, but found that his legs were too weak, and it was too difficult to get up with his hands tied behind his back and making his shoulders ache that it wouldn’t have worked anyway. He tried pulling out of the ropes, but they were tied too tight, and he growled in frustration.

“Hey, shut up, will you?” snarked the red-head angrily, and he heard a clanging sound that reminded him of metal on metal. They were  _ armed!?  _ Just how strong was Remus!? What was he doing!? Roman shuddered again and curled up defensively, trying to work his way through his swirling thoughts and feelings of betrayal and terror. It didn’t work, but he did calm down a little after what felt like an eternity, though his heart was still pounding and his breaths were still too quick. 

He tried not to listen to the guards’ conversation, but it was hard not to when there was nothing else he could focus on. For the most part, they just insulted him and ranted about his “perfectionism” and “unfair punishments”, but a few times they mentioned their appreciation for Remus, and how they were looking forward to their “freedom”, whatever that meant. He didn’t have time to deal with all of that, but the words stuck, and he didn’t know what to think. He just wanted out. He didn’t want to think about the fact that without being able to see the clothes designating their status, it was impossible to figure out if the second person was actually a slave or a person.

He hated not knowing things, but he thought bitterly that he’d have to get used to it - he doubted that he was getting out of here anytime soon. 

* * *

He was right, and he did end up getting used to it. He’d been here for what he assumed was a fortnight, and mostly it was just the same thing every day. Wake up, wonder if he was really awake, feel how sore he was from sleeping on the hard ground - then listen to the conversation between the guards, who rotated every three hours. The ropes had been taken off on what he thought was the second day, but they’d been replaced with metal cuffs chained to the wall with just enough room to walk four steps, not enough to reach the bars of his cell.

He couldn’t take off the blindfold - well, theoretically he could, but he didn’t think he’d be able to stand being in a place so dirty if he could  _ see  _ the dirt. Roman was nervous, and somehow not being able to see was comforting, it helped him when he wanted to imagine that he was back home and everything was fine. The gag had been removed at the same time as the ropes, but he didn’t say anything. He felt like saying something, interacting with anyone, would make it all real, and maybe it would summon Remus and then he would die. It was illogical and stupid, but Roman already knew that he didn’t have weapons, he was in a cell, he was being guarded at every moment of the day, and he had absolutely no idea how many people Remus had under his control. 

He felt confused and angry and depressed, most of the time. From the conversations that he overheard, he’d assumed by the third day that every one of the guards was a slave, but then he heard some of them countering that idea, and now he was just as confused as ever. The ones he knew were slaves and the ones he knew weren’t slaves didn’t act any differently, talk any differently, or interact the way they were supposed to. It was like everyone was equal, which was stupid and made  _ no sense,  _ and the ones who were slaves always talked about it like they  _ weren’t  _ slaves anymore. 

Roman had given nicknames for each of the guards, in the time that he had nothing else to do, which was literally all the time aside from eating, sleeping, and - erm - the most humiliating part of never being alone. (At least it was a proper latrine, not just a bucket, and at least it felt like it was in a divot in the wall, so when he used it he could tell himself that they couldn’t see him.) 

There was Red-Head, Gravel, Apple Tree, Creep, Excuses, Jumpy, Basket, and Ugly. He knew their actual names too now, but it was easier to think of them by their nicknames so that he could pretend detachment from his situation.

The one time he heard Remus was in passing, when his brother met with his current guards (Apple Tree and Creep) to ask them something.  _ “How’s he been for you two?” he’d asked, in that familiar, amused tone of voice. “Quiet. He’s pretty well-behaved for a new pet.” Creep had answered jokingly. Remus had groaned and laughed. “Ugh, don’t remind me, that was awful!” Apple Tree had interrupted. “He eats, sleeps, and doesn’t make trouble. Doesn’t say anything, either, and doesn’t even try taking off the blindfold.” There’d been a moment of consideration. “Well, that’s weird,” Remus had said, and Roman could imagine the exact way he’d shrugged it off. “At least he won’t be a problem! So, I’m releasing Liam and Julie from guard duty, so you’re gonna have to stay a couple more hours until Marissa and Anna get here. Sorry ‘bout that, but we drew, and the duo’s part of the release party!” There’d been some groaning, some laughter, and then Remus had left.  _

Roman didn’t really know what to do with that information. It seemed like Remus didn’t really care about him, just wanted him out of the way. It seemed like Remus was his normal self again. But if he’d learned anything in the past two weeks, it was that things were never what they seemed. 

* * *

“Report?” Deceit asked, examining his nails - even though he was wearing gloves. He was with Green in the hill-house, him leaning casually against the plaster wall and Green bouncing around the room like a hyperactive possessed demon-cat. 

Green grinned even more brightly - Deceit caught it merely from the sound of his voice, and no, it  _ wasn’t  _ because they were friends  _ in the least,  _ it was just because he was observant. “We’ve got two hundred people in the base, twenty going undercover, fifteen on their way out of Sanders, and four inside men! Eleven people are injured, only three died, and I had to bring two nosy cooks who tried alerting the Reeds before everyone was out.”

Deceit was surprised. That was… what, two hundred twenty-six functional people on their side? No, two hundred twenty-eight. He found himself grinning back, dropping the pretense of indifference. There were exactly eighty-nine nobles around these parts (excepting himself, Green, and Green’s brother) about two hundred servants, and approximately five hundred working class in the city. Generally, the working class was against slavery and nobility, and so were the servants. So, factoring in 15% exceptions to those assumptions, that was one hundred and five people, add that to eighty-nine and that was one hundred and ninety-four people against their two hundred twenty-eight. That was good!

Of course, then he remembered that he’d forgotten that 70% of the servants would join in involuntarily, so he had to go back - 70% of two hundred was obviously one hundred and forty, add that to 15% of five hundred, and that was two hundred and fifteen. In addition to the nobles, that meant that it was about three hundred and four people against their two hundred and twenty-eight. They also had the advantage of calling for backup and military, so factoring that in, the odds of winning in an all-out war would be… 3%, if they managed to keep the element of surprise. 

Well. It was a good thing that they weren’t going into an all-out war. No, they were going about this the rogue’s way - in the night, practicing stealth, sending out people to try and convince others to their side without giving themselves away to the wrong people. Sure, maybe this way was longer, but they’d already done so much - the odds of them eventually getting slavery eliminated was at about 85%, to be completed in nine years, ever since the law had been passed (thanks to some pulling strings behind the curtain and some higher-up connections as well as a couple assassinations on Green’s and the Guard’s part) that forbid people from becoming slaves, but still let those who were already slaves remain so.

He blinked out of his thoughts and realized that he’d missed over half of Green’s rant about really annoying cooks who did nothing but frown and grump at a wall all day.  _ Oh well, at least he hasn’t noticed that I’m not listening.  _ He mentally slapped himself.  _ I mean - at least it wasn’t anything important. I don’t care about him at all. _

Green veered back on track, which was impressive for him. “Anyways, I had to put the cooks in the cell furthest away from everyone because they’re  _ super loud  _ and annoying, and my brother’s guards say that he’s not even trying to escape or talk his way out or anything, which is weird. Lo-Lo wants to come on my next outing, so I can’t kill anyone on it, anyway, what’s next? What do I gotta do, Double-Dee? We’re pretty much good for here, so do we have to set up another base in the next province or are we going small-ant-incognito-spy-friends?”

“Um.” Deceit replied eloquently, blinking as he absorbed that information. “If ‘small-ant-incognito-spy-friends’ means with a small group, then yes. It would take far too long to establish an entirely new base, not to mention Insomnia can barely keep up with this one’s demands. I suggest that we take as few people as possible - a couple spies, at least four guards, a fighter, and I guess Logic and you. I can’t come. You’ll need transportation - horses, and perhaps a merchant’s cart, or a boat if you want to work on the other side of Sanders. I’ll have to tell Insomnia, they want to be more hands-on in the next epicenter.”

Green nodded enthusiastically, pulled something out of his pocket, and then there was a slap as Deceit watched a dead rat fall to the floor from where it had smacked his chest. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath - not to keep himself from laughing! No! Green was just hard to deal with sometimes. 

“I told you not to,” he said, voice wavering as his lips twitched.

“Nu-uh! I’d definitely remember if you said ‘don’t throw dead rats at me’!” Green shook his head vehemently, pulling out another dead rat and throwing it at the wall to accentuate his point. The mischievous grin on his face gave it away, though. Deceit laughed. 

* * *

As much as he had gotten used to his - his -  _ horrid, awful, terrifying  _ situation, Roman couldn’t forget that just two weeks earlier he’d been living in the sunlight, maintaining his place as the heir of the estate and as one of the most popular, well-liked people in the young nobility. He couldn’t forget that he’d had everything that he could’ve wanted, bar true love - which was its own problem, as he never really… wanted to marry a lady. 

And that led to him thinking about things. Thinking about why he was always praised for his politeness and proper composure around ladies, while the other noblemen couldn’t keep themselves from flirting and bending to kiss their hands at any opportunity. He’d never struggled with that, and he’d always just assumed that was because he was better than that - but now that he had nothing but his own thoughts and the conversations between his guards, he fought to keep himself from thinking about how he’d always noticed the other noblemen. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d overheard Remus saying in the armory.  _ “Actually… I was wondering… maybe we can go together?” he’d sounded so lovestruck, so stupidly hopeful and happy, like Roman had read about in romantic stories and seen in his peers. “I don’t like seeing you hurt, Lo-Lo.” _

Remus had fallen for a slave. He’d fallen for a  _ male slave.  _ Roman… he hadn’t… he never thought that it could be possible. Not between a nobleman and a slave, not between two men. 

But now it was all he could think about. Nothing was as it seemed, everything was always under question, nothing was absolutely certain. Roman had learned that in the last fortnight. So what was stopping him from questioning why he had to fall in love with a lady? What was stopping him from asking himself why he couldn’t tell the difference between slaves and non-slaves when no one was treated differently? What was stopping him from wondering why he wasn’t more upset about not having his normal life of stress and social threads, maintaining status, studying how to run an estate with his father’s friends, never giving himself more than a few minutes to himself, for himself, for no one else? Nothing. Nothing was stopping him save himself, his own thoughts, that didn’t even make sense anymore.

He was constantly reminding himself that  _ this was just the way things were.  _ He had to repeatedly chastise himself when he thought of the slaves outside of his cell as  _ he  _ or  _ she.  _ They weren’t  _ people,  _ he had to tell himself. He didn’t know why it was suddenly so hard - it had only been  _ two weeks.  _

His father would’ve been disappointed. Roman laughed internally. His father was probably already disappointed. Hell, his father probably thought  _ he  _ was a part of Remus’... whatever this was. Revolution? It sounded like a revolution. His father would’ve been disappointed about everything that had happened in the last two weeks, and no doubt already was about everything that he already knew of. His mother was doubtlessly disappointed as well.

Roman didn’t like feeling like he was a disappointment. He never had. He struggled even harder, to bring himself back to being the perfect example of what a nobleman should be, and decided to try to keep himself from getting lazy by working out, as much as he could with the metal cuffs around his wrists. 

“Should we stop him?” Jumpy asked nervously, shifting to look at him. His hearing had improved with the loss of sight, and he heard the movement even though he himself was moving, doing push-ups and hating the way the burn started way too soon.

Excuses shrugged, from the sound of fabric and metal shifting with the motion. “Maybe. But not right now? I mean, it’s almost the end of our shift anyways, we can ask the Captain later.”

“Yeah…” Jumpy fidgeted. “But what if she gets mad?”

_ It needs someone to give it a good beating,  _ Roman forced himself to think. But of course - he thought as he lowered himself to inches above the ground and smoothly pushed himself back up, back straight, no trembling - no one did.

“It’s fine, there’s nothing he can do with only one day of exercise and those little meals,” Excuses brushed it off. They both laughed, and Jumpy quieted first. 

“I still can’t believe Remus can feed us so well. There are so many of us… and we’re hiding in a forest.”

“Deceit said that it’s Morality.” Deceit was someone his guards all mentioned fairly often. Roman assumed it was a pseudonym - whoever it was, he was in charge of most of… whatever this was, next to Remus. He had no idea who it could be, but it had to be a nobleman, from what he gathered.

“Still can’t believe it.”

“Yeah, I don’t blame you. I can barely believe this all either, it feels like everything we’ve always wanted.”

Roman did laugh, then. Just a little sarcastic snicker that he disguised as a cough.  _ Everything you’ve always wanted. Well, it’s certainly not  _ my  _ dream come true. _


	12. Logan's Missing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Duke tortures Logan, but after being rescued by Deceit, Logan soon realizes that the mental scars the "events" with Remus gave him can't be locked out so easily.
> 
> Somewhat Happy Ending, Romantic DLAMP, Torture, Aftermath of Torture, Flashbacks, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Stitches, Abandonment, Intrusive Thoughts, Panic Attacks, Fear, Insecurities, let me know if I forgot anything!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday AngstSadnessAndTears! I hope I did okay, I haven't written torture before (I usually go for less direct methods of angst, but it's always fun to have a challenge!) <3

_ Tick, tick, tick…  _

The only sounds in the room, which looked more like a library than any sort of sleeping chamber, were the ticking of the clock and the clacking of a keyboard under the (figuratively) flying fingers of Logan Sanders. 

He was absorbed in research, learning as his eyes flicked across the screen, mind spinning a web of evidences and proofs while he constructed arguments that flowed from his mind to the screen like water from a dam - once he started, he couldn’t stop until he was finished. 

_ Tick, tick, tick…  _

It wasn’t dark in the room; but it was dim, a soft rusty glow lighting up the library.  _ Red lights are better for nighttime because they have the shortest wavelengths and strain your eyes less.  _ Logan liked it, because it let him stay up later doing research, writing schedules, and building arguments. 

As he wrote, he was only focused on his laptop, and nothing else. 

That’s the only reason why he didn’t notice the tentacled shadow with bright green eyes fall from the ceiling and to the floor with a quiet thud. The only reason he didn’t see it creeping up on him, a wide, unhinged, toothy smile splitting its shadowed face. The only reason he didn’t move when the light of the screen reflected off of the multi-faceted surface of a morningstar being slammed down into his head. 

_ Tick, tick, tick…  _

Everything was dark.

* * *

Deceit should’ve known something was wrong. He hadn’t seen the Duke all day, and the day before. He hadn’t seen Logan since that morning. 

Why had he hoped it was just a coincidence? Why had he convinced himself that Logan was just in the Imagination conducting experiments when he couldn’t find him in his room? Why had he told himself that the Duke was just having one of his  _ episodes,  _ where he was so absorbed in his work that he stepped outside of time and reality until he was finished? How could he have not realized that the Duke wasn’t okay? He’d come to him, crying and saying that he didn’t want to, that he wanted to stop hearing the voices, to stop being so unlovable and  _ bad.  _ And Deceit had turned him away, saying it was useless. What if he’d been the last straw?

What if, if he’d talked to the Duke instead of slamming the door in his face, the Duke wouldn’t have disappeared and he wouldn’t be feeling this overwhelming sense of wrongness? What if Logan wouldn’t be missing? What if he wouldn’t be walking through the labyrinth that was the Duke’s realm, heart pounding, gloved hands reaching out and opening every door with apprehension, searching for them? What if he wouldn’t be screaming inside of himself, telling himself that he had to hurry up, that he didn’t have  _ time  _ to be scared? 

Maybe he wouldn’t be slamming doors on eldritch abominations, rooms filled with severed limbs, closets with rotting flesh and pale white bone. Maybe he wouldn’t be walking through halls, his heels clicking on the concrete, lights flickering above him and dying when he walked past. Maybe he wouldn’t be hearing nothing but silence, scraping, and the humming of the lights. Maybe he’d be back in his room, sitting in his armchair, a book in his hands and philosophies running through his mind.

But he was here. He was tensing before each door, turning the door handle, pushing it open, and then slamming it shut on whatever horrors burned themselves into his mind. He knew he’d never forget the look in those gaping eyes, the darkened blood dripping onto the floor, no matter how much he wanted to.

Deceit was cold, and not just because the labyrinth was freezing. He was scared. Chills were running up his arms and down his spine, he was flinching at everything. His hands were like ice. He couldn’t stop swallowing. His heart was racing, pounding in his ears, loud and all-consuming yet not nearly loud enough to drown out the broken screams that suddenly filled the air once more.

He felt his eyes sting and he ignored them. 

The screams were cut off abruptly, and then he heard the unmistakable sound of the Duke’s frantic thoughts, pouring out of his mouth uncontrollably.  _ They won’t come for you~ They don’t care. You’re just a robot, just a robot! You should be a robot! I have to fix you, fix you, I have to  _ **_fix it, let me fix it, I don’t care I have to fix it FIX IT FIX IT -_ ** _ They don’t care about you, Logan. They won’t come. After all, you’re just an emotionless robot, aren’t you? You make so many mistakes. Why would they want you? _

Deceit shuddered and broke into a run, sprinting towards the sounds of the screams and the crying and the sobbing and the words, skidding around the corners and hysterically bouncing on his feet and spinning around to run back out of a dead end. His breaths were desperate, his hands were shaking, his legs felt like they’d give out on him at any moment.

_ They don’t want you~ You’re a robot. How could they love a robot? When I fix you up they’ll be so happy~ _

He caught himself on the wall, running too fast to turn. He stumbled away and kept running, muscles aching and fear sliding down his shoulders over his body.

**_I HAVE TO FIX IT FIX IT I HAVE TO FIX IT I CAN’T STOP I HAVE TO FIX IT IT’S WRONG WRONG WRONG I HAVE TO FIX IT I CAN’T -_ **

The Duke sounded so terrified, so helpless, and that just made it even more chilling. Deceit gasped for breath as he rounded another corner.

_ Be a good robot and stop crying. Robots don’t cry. Why are you crying? You’re broken. Robots don’t cry, robots don’t, why is it crying!? You’re a robot, you’re crying, you’re broken and I have to  _ **_FIX IT FIX IT FIX IT!_ **

He reached the door and shoved it open, throwing his hand up and snatching frantically at the frozen air, trapping it in his numb fist even as the Duke dropped whatever he was holding - clattering, metal on the floor - and his hands shot up, slamming over his mouth. He kept screaming.

He used his other hand to use that same invisible power to slam the Duke into the wall, where he crumpled, screaming even louder under his hands.

He looked at Logan, and his vision swam with dark spots and  _ blood.  _ Blood, burns, cuts, red, purple, bruises, blood, pale skin, tears streaking down and mixing with the blood, gasping breaths and choked sobbing, and  _ stitches, stitches,  _ his mouth sewn shut - 

He felt a wave of anger and horror, and he made it all explode away from the logical side, freeing him, then lifting him up with his burning arms and sinking out.

* * *

They didn’t know what happened. One day, Logan was fine; then he disappeared, and when they saw him the next day he looked the same - 

But Logan was constantly either crying or on the verge of tears. He was almost violently jumpy, at every small sound, and he had destroyed every single clock during a long, terrifying hour of wide eyes and shaking limbs. He refused to go in his room, and he hated the shadows, constantly looking around with a look of hysteric paranoia.

Anxiety didn’t know what had happened, but he could guess. The moment he realized that something was wrong, he’d slammed his door shut and moved his room to the Light Side, not even caring about Roman’s terrified anger or Patton’s blubbery anxiousness. 

He was the one who helped Logan out of the first panic attack.  _ “Focus on my voice. You’re going to be okay. You’re not in danger. I would know if you were, and I will save you if you get into any.”  _ He was the one who opened all the curtains and blinds and turned on all the lights.  _ “It’s t-too dark, he might-t be in the d-d-dark- I can’t - I c-can’t-”  _ He was the one who gave Logan his weighted blanket, and he was the one who spent hours telling him that everything was okay, leading him through grounding exercises and reassuring him that the Duke wasn’t coming back.  _ “One, two, three, that’s it, one, two, three, four, that’s okay, let’s try again. One, two, three, four…” _

He was the one helping Logan destroy all the clocks when the ticking threw him into another panic att -  _ flashback.  _

_ “He’s gon-na c-come back-k, h-he’s gonna-a-a find m-me, I don’t-t want h-him to-!” _

Deceit had appeared the day after Logan’s return, pale and shaky, eyes haunted - but he still tried his best to put on his mask, sarcastic, put together, calm. It was apparent to everyone that he wasn’t okay.

_ “No, I’m fine. Nothing is wrong! Why would you c - I’m fine! Stay, please, I love being talked down to like some pity case - I’m  _ **_fine.”_ **

Patton closed the door to the Dark Side. Roman shut off the door to the Imagination. Deceit built the locks and chains. Anxiety kept the keys on a bracelet around his upper arm. Logan checked every possible hiding place, every vulnerability, two dozen times every day, clinging to someone’s arm like a lifeline.  _ “Don’t let him t-take me, p-p-please, I’m not-t a ro-robot, I’m not!” _

_ “We know, Logan.” _

There was no sound, no whisper, no scream, from the Duke.

* * *

He hadn’t  _ meant to.  _

He hadn’t. 

He  _ hadn’t.  _

He couldn’t stop crying. He wanted to go to Dee, because Dee could tell him that it wasn’t his fault it  _ wasn’t  _ it was an accident - but Dee was gone, Dee left him because he was bad and evil and scary. He’d  _ scared  _ him. 

He kept having panic attacks, breakdowns, episodes where he couldn’t do anything but scream and cry and remember what he’d done. He wanted to go to Anx, because Anx could help him out, could help him remember how to breathe and to make the memories go away again. But Anx was gone! He was gone too, his room was gone just like Dee’s. 

He went to go ask Ro to help him find them, but Ro was gone too, and the doors were all shut and locked and gone, and he was  _ alone!  _

Duke didn’t like being alone.

It made him feel so many things. It made him sad, and lonely, upset, devastated. It made him feel angry. It made him feel so much guilt that he felt he’d never be able to get up again. It made him cry, it made him sob, it made him gasp for breath and it made him too upset to do anything. It made him tear at his hair and claw at his skin. It made food look like sand. It made water look like bile. It made him broken, and then it made his thoughts scream that he had to fix himself, because it wasn’t  _ right.  _

He’d tried to fix Lo, but Lo wasn’t broken, he’d broken Lo and that was  _ bad bad bad bad  _ **_bad bad bad bad BAD BAD_ **

He tried to fix himself. He tried to cut himself open and find out where all the heavy darkness was, where the bad stuff was, so that he could rip it out and crush it and tear it apart and get  _ rid of it.  _ But it didn’t work. There was just blood, and muscles, and veins. There were just lungs and ribs and intestines and he couldn’t find it! 

Maybe it was all of him. Maybe all of him was bad and he had to burn it all. He tried. He really did, he broke the furniture and lit it on fire and lit  _ himself  _ on fire, but it just burned and burned and nothing changed. He was still  _ broken.  _

Maybe if he could fix it? Maybe he had to make them not scared of him anymore. He could tell Lo that he didn’t mean to! And then everything would be okay and he wouldn’t be alone anymore, right? He couldn’t be alone, he couldn’t, it had to work because if it didn’t then what could he  _ do!?  _

Duke tried the doors but they were all closed and locked, he tried to sink out but it wasn’t working, what could he  _ do…?  _ He felt like crying again but it just hurt. He hadn’t meant to… he really hadn’t… he’d just wanted to be good, and he’d tried to make the thoughts go away, but then they started screaming and nothing made them stop and he had to  _ fix him fix him  _ he had to find Lo and  _ fix him!  _ But he hadn’t wanted to, he  _ hadn’t.  _

Then he remembered Thomas,  _ Thomas,  _ and he sunk out to the living room and appeared there, and the relief made his tear-stained, burned up, bloody face shine with joy. 

Then they were all scared, and Lo was stumbling away and  _ scared,  _ and his face twisted and his hands reached up to claw at his rapidly shaking head. Dee looked mad, no they all looked mad, they were  _ mad mad mad mad  _ and he started crying again, but he had to say it, he had to say that he hadn’t meant to, because then everything would be okay again. “I didn’t mean to, I promise,” he pleaded hysterically. “I didn’t want to, I didn’t, I was trying so hard but I couldn’t  _ stop it,  _ please don’t leave, don’t leave me alone, I don’t want to be alone, please! I promise, Lo, I didn’t mean to, I didn’t mean any of it, I - I can’t - I’ll never - please -”

_ He’s back he’s back he’s back for me he’s going to take me away he’s going to hurt me again he’s back he’s back fuck fuck fuck fuck he’s back what do I do how do I breathe it hurts it hurts he’s back he’s gonna hurt me again it’s so dark why can’t I talk it hurts it hurts I can’t heal it just hurts so bad bad bad bad robot, robot, robots don’t feel anything, I’m a robot - I’m not I’m not I’m not - I’m a robot I shouldn’t feel things - I’m not a robot I promise I swear I’m not I’m not - he’s back though, I’m broken, he’s back, he’s back, he’s coming for me and it hurts hurts hurts hurts- _

**_“Leave!”_ ** Anx screamed, voice tripling, and everyone was still mad and it was  _ wrong,  _ because it was supposed to be better now, they were supposed to smile and say it was okay and they were supposed to  _ come back!  _ Lo was crying, pleading, asking him to stop, tripping over his words and then screaming that he didn’t want to go back.

_ Please no please no please I’m not a robot I promise I’m not I’m not I’m not broken, I’m not please don’t it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts!  _

Duke burst into tears again and vanished, hyperventilating as he shook uncontrollably, collapsing into a fetal position in the corner and screaming until his throat was raw and it morphed into painful sobbing.

* * *

**He** was there,  **he** was there,  **he’d** been  _ right there,  _ **he** could’ve taken him away again - Logan couldn’t  _ breathe -  _ **he** was coming closer, closer,  _ You’re a robot, robots don’t have emotions, you don’t have emotions either. They don’t want you, they would never want you. They’re not coming, so I have plenty of time to  _ **_FIX IT FIX IT FIX IT I HAVE TO FIX IT_ ** _ you’ll be so much better, they might actually want you when I’m done,  _ and then the glowing green eyes were coming closer and he saw the glint of light on metal and then it was piercing through his bottom lip - 

No, no, no, he was safe he was safe, Virgil was counting and there was weight on his shoulders and it was bright, no shadows, no hiding spots. He was safe, he was safe, **he** couldn’t get him again. 

But **he’d** been _right there!_ What if the others hadn’t been there!? What if he’d been alone!? **He** would’ve taken him and then it would be dark again, and **he’d** hurt him again and there would be so much pain and hot wetness pouring down his sides and then it would _burn_ but so ice-cold and then **he** would start counting his mistakes and he would _deserve it._

No he wouldn’t! Everyone made mistakes! That was a part of human life. He was  _ allowed  _ to make mistakes, he was  _ allowed  _ to have emotions, he wasn’t a robot and he wasn’t  _ broken.  _

Someone was saying something, was it numbers? He didn’t know, didn’t care, it was probably  **him** anyway and any moment now he’d feel that icy burning through his skin and then  **he’d** tell him all about how no one wanted him, no one would come for him - 

But Deceit had! Deceit had come for him! And Anxiety moved to the Light Side for him, and no one looked mad or upset because he wasn’t a robot. 

It didn’t make sense, it didn’t make sense, why had  **he** said all those things if it wasn’t true!?  **He** was always blatantly honest.  **He** never lied.  **He** never had before, so why would it be true now? Because it wasn’t. They didn’t want him. He was a broken emotionless robot and everyone would be better off without him. 

But **he** _had_ lied before! Right? **He** must’ve. **He** had! Deceit had saved him, and **he’d** said that no one would come. That was a lie. 

He was wanted. He was needed. He wasn’t an emotionless robot. They wanted him, they didn’t want  **him** to hurt him, they wanted him as  _ him _ and not as what  **he** wanted him to be.

Shakily, he pried open his eyes and looked up, to see Anxiety next to him and everyone else standing around worriedly, but  **he** was gone.  **He** wasn’t there. But what if  **he** came back!?  **He’d** come once, who was to say that  **he** wouldn’t come again!? He would never be safe, never, not with  **him** still out there, able to find him, able to get him, able to take him away and  _ hurt him again.  _

He tried to breathe, but he couldn’t. He tried, and he kept trying, but he just  _ couldn’t  _ and then he was light-headed and  _ was he losing blood, losing blood!?  _ But no, it was bright, he wasn’t losing blood, but he couldn’t  _ breathe  _ and slowly everything faded out, and he collapsed against Anxiety’s side. 

* * *

_ He’d never really been scared of the Duke before, but then, he’d never had a reason to until now. The Duke was unpredictable. Logan’s entire existence centered around predictability. He just hadn’t realized until now how incredibly terrifying that was. _

_ “Do it, do it, do it~” the Duke was singing under his breath, a two-note tone that echoed in the room. He heard a thunk as the Duke released his morningstar, and a moment later there was an ice-cold hand on his face, holding his jaw closed. “Gotta do it~” _

_ Logan watched with wide eyes and a pounding heart as one of the Duke’s tentacles reached towards the table with the needles and thread. He tried to scream, to yell, to plead for help but it came out as strangled coughs.  _

_ The Duke’s eyes were the brightest things in the room, glowing green and glittering with manic energy. “Gotta do it, gotta do it,  _ **_FIX IT!”_ **

**_Stop, stop, stop, stop!_ ** _ Logan pleaded with his blurring eyes.  _

_ “Robots don’t need glasses  _ **_FIX IT FIX IT_ ** _ robots don’t have glasses and you’re a robot so you don’t need glasses,” the Duke said, a tentacle obstructing Logan’s vision as it pulled off his glasses and threw them aside. He heard shattering glass and his breathing stuttered.  _

_ All he could see were the Duke’s eyes, shining in the blurred darkness, and the few reflections of light on the metal of the tools on the tables.  _

_ All he could hear were his heartbeat and the Duke’s manic words.  _

_ All he could feel was the metal of the table, the thickness of the leather straps, the cold hands of the Duke and then the prick of an icy needle in the corner of his bottom lip.  _

_ “Don’t talk, don’t talk, don’t talk~” two notes, going up, fast and frantic and yet perfectly ecstatic. “Can’t talk, won’t talk, robots don’t need to talk, it doesn’t need to talk,  _ **_FIX IT FIX IT I HAVE TO FIX IT!_ ** _ It needs a lot of fixing, gotta fix it, can’t talk, won’t talk. It talks too much. Too much, too much, it talks too much, it won’t talk anymore,  _ **_FIX IT FIX IT-”_ **

_ He tried his best, with a speeding heart and shallow breaths and blurred vision, to heal himself as the Duke carefully stitched his mouth shut one stitch at a time, but the nauseating pain made his head spin and it was hard to even get the blood to stop dribbling down the sides of his face.  _

**_“FIX IT FIX IT!_ ** _ Gotta lotta time, they won’t come, won’t take it, they won’t care - they don’t care - still gotta fix it, gotta fix it, robots don’t need to talk, it doesn’t need to talk-” The Duke giggled. “They aren’t coming. They aren’t. They don’t care. You’ll be all fixed and they’ll be so happy~” _

**_No!_ **

_ “No more emotions, won’t that be nice?”  _ **_Don’t, please, don’t -_ ** _ “You always say you don’t but Dee says you’re a liar. Are you a liar? That’s bad.”  _ **_Wait, wait!_ ** _ “Robots don’t lie. You’re a robot. You shouldn’t lie.” I’m not a robot, stop it, stop! _

_ Tears were streaming down his face, tears that mixed with the blood and dripped down onto the metal of the operating table. His mind was spinning, his mouth was burning, and every sense shot up when he heard the clinking of the Duke sifting through the tools.  _

_ “Gotta find the programming, gotta find it, maybe I can fix it!  _ **_FIX IT FIX IT I CAN’T I CAN’T I HAVE TO FIX IT -_ ** _ Is it in its skull? Under its ribs? In its intestines? Where is it? I guess I’ll have to check everywhere…”  _

_ The Duke lifted something into the air with a tentacle, and then his bright round eyes were focused on him again. “You’re supposed to be emotionless. You’re a robot. You can’t have emotions.” _

**_I can!_ ** _ He tried to protest, but he was choking on his own blood and he could hardly see anymore.  _

_ When he felt the thin, cold metal pressed against his stomach, he gasped, making the stitches pull at his marred lips and his fists clench at nothing but air.  _

**_“FIND IT FIND IT_ ** _ I’ll fix you all up for them, they’ll be so happy, you’ll be all fixed! No more emotions, no more broken things, you’ll be the perfect little robot! They don’t care about you. They don’t care~ maybe they’ll care when I fix you. You’ll be all better and they’ll be so happy!”  _

_ The blade dug into his skin and he screamed through his closed lips as the stinging changed to pressure, so much pressure -  _

_ “No more mistakes!”  _

_ Something clamped open the cut, held it open, so that it felt like he was being ripped apart. He didn’t want to be here, he wanted to be in his room, he wanted to be free -  _ **_what do you want!? Please, please, just tell me what you want!_ **

_ “I gotta make sure you remember, every mistake equals one stitch! Okay?” The Duke’s face hadn’t lost his grin once, but Logan only saw a flash of it before his vision blacked out briefly, only for him to fixate on those glowing green orbs.  _

_ “Infinitesimal!” the Duke exclaimed darkly and brightly, making Logan choke.  _

_ “I…” Stitch. “N…” Stitch. “F…” He sobbed. “I…”  _ **_Stop, stop, stop!_ ** _ “N…”  _ **_Stop it!_ ** _ “I…”  _ **_Stop it, PLEASE!_ ** _ “T…” The Duke giggled. “E…” He screamed again, he couldn’t breathe - “S…”  _ **_STOP PLEASE I’LL DO ANYTHING_ ** _ “I…” He couldn’t breathe! “M…” Pressure, stinging, burning - “A…” The Duke giggled again. “Almost done! L!”  _

_ Logan sank down, sobbing brokenly, choking on his blood and wishing, wishing, that he was anywhere else but here.  _

_ Then there was a new blade, pressed against his chest, in between his ribs.  _ **_No, no, please no!_ **

_ “Silly robot,” the Duke giggled. “There’s so many more mistakes! Don’t worry, I’ll fix them all up for you!” _

_ The blade broke through his skin. _

**_NO!!!_ **

* * *

He jolted awake, breathing heavily, cold sweat dampening his face. For a moment he thought he was back there, but then he saw Anxiety, and Patton, and Deceit. Roman wasn’t there but maybe he was getting something.  _ Maybe  _ **_he_ ** _ got him, maybe  _ **_he’s_ ** _ going to hurt him next, maybe it’s all my fault -  _

“Just breathe, Lo,” Anxiety said. “You’re safe. We’re all safe. The Duke can’t get you again, I promise. Roman is blocking off the physical world from the Dark Side, so he’ll be trapped and there’s no way for him to get out, okay?” 

He struggled to breathe in, but managed it, and after the first breath the others came easier. He was safe. The -  **he** was gone.  **He** would never come back. 

He started crying. 

“Hey, hey, no, it’s okay,” Anxiety hurried to reassure, then stiffened when Logan threw his arms around him and sobbed. “Thank-k you, th-thank you, thank you, I d-d-don’t want him to come back please, thank-you-thank-you-thankyouthank-” “Hey, no! It’s okay. He’s never coming back. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

He quieted, but the tears kept falling, and he couldn’t stop shaking. Anxiety hugged him back, holding him close, and it made a warm confession slip out of his mouth. “I love you.” Breathless, wet, sad, content. And he fell asleep again. 

He didn’t know if he imagined Anxiety echoing the words back to him or not.

He did know that he heard one whispered word that stood out to him, and in the morning, Anxiety was Virgil. 

_ Virgil was sad. His eyes were wet and shining, and his arms were wrapped tightly around his chest. He couldn’t look Logan in the eyes. “I love you,” he said, raw and full of emotion. “But… but… but I love Roman too! And Patton and Dee! And I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I promise I didn’t -” _

_ Logan took a deep breath and smiled, putting a hand on Virgil’s knee. “I know.” _

_ He looked up.  _

_ “I-I-I lov-ve them t-too.” _

_ “My name…” _

_ Deceit looked down from their confessions, and everyone was silent.  _

_ He looked up, determined. “My name is Janus.” Silence. “And I…” so much emotion. “I love you too.” _

“So… you’re all dating now?” Thomas asked, sounding confused and somewhat skeptical, as though he expected it to be a joke. No one was laughing, but Virgil and Patton were close, and Roman looked absolutely offended.

Logan spoke before anyone else, a nervous smile on his face. “Yes.”

* * *

It was hard, re-entering his room for the first time since - then. But with his boyfriends next to him, reassuring him the whole time, it was… manageable. He kept expecting to see glowing green eyes and he kept expecting a flash of pain and then nothing but darkness - but it didn’t happen. There was only the soft red glow of his lights, the soothing presence of the hundreds of books on his shelves, and the familiar comfort of the bed he’d slept on every night since his creation and not once since… then. 

He was shaky and nervous, and sometimes he just couldn’t breathe, but it was okay. Sometimes he couldn’t think of anything except  _ the light glinting off the metal, searing pain, stitches and stitches and counting mistakes - screaming and then calmness, then screaming again - he was a robot, he was nothing more than an emotionless robot, no one wanted him, they hated him, who would want him, he was useless and pathetic -  _

But then Patton was there, and Virgil was giving him a weighted blanket, and Roman was singing a song softly to bring him out of it while Janus told him that everything was okay - and he was getting better. 

Virgil told them that the Duke had hurt him before, too. That it was nowhere near as bad, but… he’d showed them the scars. It was enough. 

Janus told them that he felt guilty, like it was his fault. He told them that he missed the Duke. He told them that he thought he hadn’t meant to, that he thought the Duke felt bad enough and that the only reason he’d done… that… in the first place was because he’d tried to repress his thoughts. He told them that the Duke had come to him on the verge of a breakdown the last time he’d seen him before… then. Logan hadn’t made it through that conversation. Patton had bitten his lip, and they’d thought about it in silence for a while. They forgave Janus for everything, knowing that he hadn’t meant any harm, that he couldn’t have known what would happen.

But the Duke… he was dangerous. It would be better for all of them if he was kept away from them. It was better to keep him locked out, and even if Janus cried, he didn’t disagree.

Still, none of them knew what to do when a piece of clean white notebook paper was slid under the door, with a note written out in pencil. There were smudges and scribbled out words, and the handwriting was desperate and rushed, but the words themselves were… strange.

_ I’ _ M  **S** **_O_ ** _ R _ **R** _ Y  _

_P_ ** _LE_** **A** SE **_D_** **O** _N’T L_ E **AV** ** _E M_** _E ~~A~~_ ~~LO ** _N_** _E_~~

~~_ I  _ **_C_ ** AN’T ~~ _~~-~~ _ **_P_ ** L **E** **_A_ ** _ S _ **_E_ **

P **_LE_ ** A **S** _ E _

**_I_** **D** ID _N_ ** _’T_** _W_ A **N** ** _T_** T _O_

And Logan wrote back.

_ Why did you do it?  _

I  **H** _ A _ D T **_O_ **

_C_ ** _O_** **U** L _D_ ** _N_** **’T** **_ST_** _O_ P

**_T_** **H** ** _O_** _UG_ ** _H_** T _S, I_ ** _T W_** A _S TH_ **E** T **H** ** _O_** U ** _GHT_** _S_

T ** _O_** _O_ ** _LO_** U ** _D_** _T_ ** _O_** **O** _L_ O **U** ** _D_** ~~**T** OO **_L_** _O_ ** _U_** **D**~~

~~**_N_ ** **O** W _ I _ **_T’_ ** **S** _ T _ **_O_ ** _ O  _ **QU** **_IE_ ** _ T _ ~~

_I C_ **O** U _L_ ** _D_** **N** ’T _S_ ** _TOP_** I’ **M** _S_ ** _O_** **R** R ** _Y_**

Logan wasn’t ready to see the Duke. He wasn’t ready to confront the fact that… that… had actually happened, that it wasn’t just a bad dream. He wasn’t ready - but one day, he knew that he would be.

_ I… I believe you.  _


	13. Remus' Logan and Unsympathetic Roman (Part 4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus is heading a revolution with his best friend Deceit. Logan is trying to find his place in it all. Roman is dealing with it.
> 
> Ambiguous/Open Ending (still more parts, how many am I doing!?), Imprisonment, Boredom, Implied Past Eating Disorder, Yelling, U?Roman, let me know if you want me to tag anything else!

“Sorry, Lo-Lo,” Remus sighed, fidgeting with his knife, looking away.

Logan replied, ‘I’m not upset. This  _ is  _ a revolution we’re talking about, I certainly don’t expect you to be able to pander to my every whim and fancy. If you say you have to go on a mission alone, then I trust you. I’ve trusted you this far, haven’t I love?’

He shrugged and grinned, neatly sliding the weapon into its hidden sheath inside his sleeve as he looked up to meet Logan’s endless blue eyes. “You sure have! I’d say you’re crazy, but I’m not really one to talk,” he snickered at his own joke, loving the way Logan’s lips twitched upwards. Him and Dee, they both hated showing affection or feelings in general - it made Remus wrinkle his nose in delight, since neither of them realized just how obvious it was that they  _ did  _ have feelings.

‘Remus?’ Logan tapped thoughtfully. He gave him a curious expression. ‘Why are you so… you, for lack of a better term, when your family is so… traditional?”

He blinked.  _ Wow, I didn’t think that Lo even thought about that.  _ Then he mentally berated himself.  _ Of course he’d wonder, he’s Logie! He’s really smart and curious, so of course he’d want to know!  _ He looked away, zoning out on the lantern on the table just behind Logan.

“Well,” he started, and pulled up a grin. “I’ve never been one for following the rules, right?” Logan nodded, frowning a little. “So when Romano was busy in the nursery, I was in the kitchens or the stables, and as you know, there were a lot of slaves who worked there.” He swallowed, not liking the lump in his throat or the burning behind his eyes. “Long story short,” his voice cracked, “I made a friend, and it didn’t last.”

‘They were…’ Logan started, then trailed off, waiting for him to explain.

“Killed,” he answered automatically, then flinched. “They were killed. Romulus and Elizabeth didn’t find out about my friendship with them, but they made a ‘mistake’ and… well. You know how that goes.”

Logan winced. ‘I apologize for asking.’

Remus pouted. “Noooo! No apologies! I love you! You get to hear  _ all  _ of my tragic stories of childhood if you want, Lo-Lo! Like that one time I ate an almond bread pastry with marmalade and cinnamon and decided that it tasted bad, so I put a dozen crickets into the next batch when the cooks weren’t looking, and then no one liked it…”

‘...tragic indeed.’

Remus stuck out his tongue and crossed his arms in a perfect imitation of a grumpy toddler, then dropped it a moment later and tackled Logan in a hug. 

* * *

Logan was… bored, to put it lightly. He was bored. And he knew that he probably shouldn’t be, because this was a revolution, and there were an infinite amount of things that he could be doing - learning how to fight, learning to cook, reading books, writing books, figuring out how he could be a  _ useful  _ part of this whole thing - but instead of doing any of them, he was just sitting at a table in the corner of the Great Hall, of a dungeon buried under three meters of dirt, watching the dozens of people eating and socializing while they waited patiently for their turn to go out of the country. 

Lantern-light wasn’t very bright, so everything was dim and cast in orange tinted light. The stones were rough, so it wasn’t as loud and echoing as he would’ve expected for a dungeon, but the crowded room was enough to make it uncomfortable. Logan would’ve left, gone outside and done something, if there were anything to  _ do.  _ As it was, this was the most interesting thing he could be doing right now.

“You look bored.” Someone said bluntly, plopping down next to him with a flash of a smile. He recognized them as the Doctor - as Deceit called them - or “Doc” - as Remus called them. He didn’t know their name, but he surmised that that was okay, since in all likelihood, the Doctor couldn’t speak his language. He shrugged and nodded in reply.

“Logan, right?” he nodded again and they smiled. “I’m Emile. They. So, bored, huh? Do you need something to do?” 

He raised his eyebrows slightly to signal his curiosity. He really did want something to do, and was intrigued to discover what Emile had in mind.

“Well, from what I’ve heard, you’re pretty intelligent,” they observed, still smiling brightly while they tapped their fingers on the table. “You like learning, and being useful.” He tilted his head in agreement. “Well, one thing that this whole operation - yes, that was a pun!” Emile paused to grin. “One thing this whole operation doesn’t cover,” they repeated, getting a little more serious again, “is ideas. Yes, we’re freeing everyone; yes, we’re helping them out of the country; but if we want to really win, we need to show people  _ why  _ slavery is wrong. We need to convince those who believe in it to stop believing in it, and  _ that’s  _ how we truly win.”

Logan considered it. It made sense, to go for a social change as well as a physical change and semi-legal one. He blinked and nodded, brows knitting a little to show interest and encourage Emile to continue.

They sat back a little bit. “The best way to learn is through experience sometimes,” they said after a moment, grinning a little. “And well, we have just the nobleman to practice on, don’t we?”

_ What are you suggesting that I do?  _ Logan asked in his head, doing his best to try and convey that message. He didn’t know if he succeeded, but Emile looked like he understood, so he supposed it wasn’t futile.

“Roman Prince,” they said. “Cruel to the slaves and the image of a perfect nobleman to his fellow nobility.”  _ Where is this going?  _ “If you can convince him that slavery is wrong, you can convince others. Take notes of the process. Who knows? It could do a lot of things, and if you fail - well. At least you won’t be bored, right?” Emile finished with a challenging smile.

And well, there was really only one answer to that.

* * *

Roman frowned under the blindfold that he still hadn’t taken off. The guards were switching - Basket and Ugly’s shifts were over, and now Red-Head and Gravel were going to replace them.

At least, that’s what he’d  _ expected.  _ But no, instead of Gravel’s unmistakable click-thud, wide-paced footsteps, he heard quiet tap-tap footsteps along with Red-Head’s shuffle-clack ones. A new guard? What happened to Gravel?  _ He’s probably been replaced. He must’ve made Remus angry, or perhaps he got into a fight and lost. He’s not the most pleasant person to be around, so I’m not surprised. But who’s his replacement?  _

He huffed near-silently. It didn’t matter; nothing was going to change. Roman was still imprisoned, and unless the new guard had something against letting him exercise, it really would not affect him. 

He took a break from lunges and stretching to let out a long breath and plop down against the wall. He rested his sweating head against the cold stones as his hand found its way to his middle, which was achingly sore, both from his recent strainings and from the not-nearly-enough meals that he got once a day. Speaking of which, this was the shift that always gave him his food, so he wouldn’t have to wait much longer to take the edge off of his hunger. 

Had he been any other nobleman, the feeling of hunger would be entirely unfamiliar - yet, unfortunately, it was not. He remembered all-too-clearly, a few years back, when he realized just how much people looked down on those who gorged themselves. He remembered that it was gradual, that he just - didn’t feel hungry anymore. It had lasted for months, until it all crashed down on him at a party and he had to leave early because the pains were too much. He’d never truly regained his appetite, but he’d always made sure to eat at least one plate at every meal.

It was interesting, how the first time he felt hunger it was his own fault, and now it was his brother’s. 

He heard a familiar clinking sound, one that signified a key in a lock, and he straightened, setting his shoulders back and lifting his chin, even as the guard - the new one,  _ why is that breathing pattern so familiar  _ \- set something (it sounded like two things, a bowl and a cup) down next to him and retreated. Tap-tap… tap-tap… tap-tap. 

“So how are you going to do it?” Red-Head asked, and Roman perked up imperceptibly at the notion of hearing the new guard’s voice.

To his disappointment, there was no voice, but a neutral hum and the sound of pen on paper.

_ Oh.  _ Roman withdrew his hand from where it had been reaching for the food. He probably shouldn’t eat it, not if  _ Remus’ lover  _ was the one who’d given it to him - thoughts of poison filled his mind, and he shuddered, before getting up and moving carefully around the dishes to get down and work on his sit-ups. He was not in the mood to die today.  _ Though,  _ he mused,  _ if he’s here to stay I’ll likely die of starvation. _

He sighed, and ignored the pang of hunger that just got worse as he moved. It hurt, yes, but he couldn’t do anything about it - so why bother caring? Of course, he couldn’t just will the pain to go away, so it still hurt. But he didn’t have to think about that.

Instead, he thought back to what Red-Head had asked Remus’ lover.  _ “So how are you going to do it?”  _ He felt a chill run down his spine, though it could’ve been from the cold. Those words couldn’t mean anything good.  _ She probably wants to know how he’s going to kill me.  _ Out of all the slaves, Roman had been the harshest to the mute. It only followed that he would want to enact revenge, make him pay for the punishments he’d subjected him to. (When had he started thinking of the slave as “him”? Whatever. It didn’t matter. If doe could be “she” and bucks could be “he” then it made sense that slaves could be too.)

“Oh,” Red-Head’s voice startled him out of his thoughts. She nodded, shirt making a  _ shh-shh  _ sound. “Sure, no problem.”  _ What isn’t a problem!?  _ Roman forced himself to resume his exercises, not giving any hint that he was listening. “Hey, sir mister fancy sash,” her voice was clearer and louder, she was addressing  _ him,  _ why was she addressing him!? (Why wasn’t he more upset at the sarcastic title?) “Logan wants to know why you haven’t taken off the blindfold yet!”

Roman stiffened, feeling a spike of anxiety stab through his chest. He didn’t stop moving, or they’d see how he’d started shaking. He didn’t want them to talk to him, now he couldn’t pretend that he was just an observer - he was in a cell in a buried dungeon in the middle of a forest, imprisoned by his twin, it was cold and dirty and damp and he was  _ here  _ and he was trapped. But it was too late, it was too late, they’d already addressed him and now he was here and he couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t. 

He opened his mouth, but the thought of speaking made him want to heave up what little resided in his stomach. He swallowed and tried again, voice coming out smooth, calm, and just louder than a whisper despite the state he was in. “I don’t want to talk.”

_ Why did I say that? I should’ve said it wasn’t their problem, or said that it was so I didn’t have to look at this filth.  _ Roman took a deep breath. It didn’t matter. Anything he did here, he could deny if he ever made it out. Anything he did here was not observed by other noblemen. Anything he did wouldn’t make a difference. He didn’t want to aggravate the one who was most likely already plotting his death anyway. 

There were some more scritching sounds, and then a pause for, he assumed, Red-Head to finish reading whatever the Mute had written. Then, she asked with a hint of malice and annoyance in her voice, “Why not? It’s not like you have much else to do.”

Roman felt irritation rise up over his anxiety, and he snapped, “I don’t care, I don’t have to spend any of the rest of my life _talking_ to _vagabond_ _slaves!”_

He heard them flinch, heard the sharp, near-silent inhale and the fabric jerking. He also heard the sound of a hand coming to rest on the hilt of a sword, and he took deep, heavy breaths to calm himself. He didn’t want to die yet - he couldn’t make them angry.

Before he was fully aware of what he was saying, his voice smoothed out and he ran a hand down his face. (And he could  _ feel  _ the grime.) “I’m sorry. I did not mean to yell.”  **_DON’T YOU DARE APOLOGIZE, ROMAN, NEVER APOLOGIZE TO A SLAVE!_ ** He stood up quickly and slammed a fist into the stone wall, gasping as the rough surface broke skin and made him clutch his stinging hand to his chest. He growled. “NO! I am  _ not  _ sorry. You deserve it, bastardly  _ scum _ that you are!”  _ No, no, this is  _ **_not_ ** _ what you’re supposed to be doing! Don’t aggravate a hungry pack of wolves when they’ve got you surrounded.  _ He squeezed his eyes shut, though it did nothing, since it was already dark.  _ “No,”  _ he gritted out. “I’m not sorry. Just leave me alone.”

He heard a muttered, “Jeez…” and then nothing but uncomfortable shifting, the scritching of pen on paper, and the sound of his own labored breathing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My birthday is coming up (Dec. 16th), and I'd love more requests! Probably some fluff, because this is just filling up with angst. ;)


	14. Remus' Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Human AU - Logan and Remus have been dating for a year, and though they both don't have much money they try to find a perfect gift for each other; but the greatest gift of all is the love they have for each other.
> 
> Happy Ending, Fluff, Little Tiny Flickers of Not-Fluff, Remus-typical thoughts/behavior, let me know if there's anything else I should tag

It was almost Christmas, and Remus wanted to get his boyfriend the best present ever, because he was the best boyfriend - he didn’t care that Remus had weird ideas and cussed a lot or anything! - and he absolutely deserved it. He knew exactly what to get Logan, to! He’d love a nice telescope, because he loved the stars, and practically was one himself. Remus could just imagine the look of surprise and then shock, morphing into delight as Logan’s nerdiness took over and he geeked out excessively for the rest of the month. 

He sighed, knowing that he had such a sappy smile on his face that he wouldn’t be surprised if he’d suddenly turned into a maple tree. There was only one problem with that plan - Remus didn’t have a penny to his name. (He had about seventy dollars though.) 

Sure, maybe he was a little, teensy bit poor, living in a tiny apartment with a broken heater and probably some mold issues, but he was Remus for fuck’s sake! He could just steal one. Except Logan wouldn’t approve, which sucked… he could try and pretend that he hadn’t stolen it, but he wasn’t a very good liar and Logan already knew how broke he was. 

Flipping himself right-side-up from where he was upside-down with his head on the floor and legs on his bed, Remus groaned. How could he show Logan he loved him when he couldn’t steal telescopes for him? He probably wouldn’t like it if he gave him a pile of dead rats… and wouldn’t enjoy anything he made, because Remus couldn’t cook for shit and all of his creations were kind of iffy, like, he hadn’t shown Logan any of his creations yet, ‘cause he probably wouldn’t like them and then he’d break up with him and then Remus would be all alone -

Nope, those were off the table.  _ What table? Operating table? Cool! What organs am I losing? I hope it’s like, my lungs or _ \- WAITWAITWAIT, that’s it! He could sell a kidney and a liver and donate plasma, and then he’d have enough money to buy it! Oh shoot though, he’d already sold a kidney back when he was running from that one mob boss… and he wasn’t sure if he could live without his liver. Plasma money wasn’t nearly enough for a full telescope… 

_ Ugh. _ He could probably go back to the “exotic dancing” scene, but Logan made him promise not to, because the last time he’d done that, shit happened and he wasn’t doing so hot. So nope, couldn’t sell himself for money, fuck. Maybe he could make a telescope instead? Yeah! If old Hans Lippershey could make a telescope, so could he!

Remus just had to go find a glassblower and threaten them to make the - nope! He couldn’t threaten anyone, Logan wouldn’t like that. He could go get some different sized magnifying glasses though, all he’d have to do would be get the handles and rims off and then voila! All he needed after that were a blowtorch, some scrap metal, and a mallet - wait, no, blowtorches were expensive and he’d have to buy the mask too, so he could make it out of wood. He was good at whittling! 

After that, he’d just need some mirrors - or! or! he could make them himself! He knew how to make mirrors, and he knew just where to find the glass, too! 

Remus grinned and hopped up to his feet, not even caring about the black that suddenly filled the edges of his vision as he ran across the room and jumped out the window, grabbing onto the fire escape supports and dropping to the ground. He had a solid plan now, and the thought of Logan’s starry eyes just further motivated him to start immediately.

* * *

The junkyard was a fun place to be, Remus reflected  _ very seriously.  _ There were glass shards and scraps of metal all over the packed dirt ground, old couches with springs poking out that had probably seen at least two dozen owners who all survived on ramen and television, broken lamps, creepy old dolls, heaps of crushed plastic soda bottles, and about nine big black trash bags filled with the kind of trash that you weren’t supposed to put in a junkyard.

There were broken down cars, stripped of all even somewhat valuable parts, and there was also a shopping cart, which was weird. Who in their right mind stole a cart from a store and then took it to the junkyard without even using it first? Remus just didn’t understand people sometimes. 

There were also some weeds and some sticker flowers, in the few spots that weren’t taken up by piles of random things and not-so-random things, but that was unimportant. What was important was that Remus had some things to find, and he only had about one week to do it all.

He was wearing an outfit that  _ probably  _ most people would agree was not what one should wear while digging around in a junkyard, but like, since when did he do what most people deemed “socially acceptable” “practical” or “not stupid”? Since  _ never,  _ that’s what. Remus was going to stay in his crop tops and short shorts until the day he died. (But he’d be wearing them at his funeral, so…) 

Remus did a cartwheel - because why not - and started looking for the parts he needed.

Five hours later (so he got distracted by a snake eating a rabbit, sue him), Remus had a pile of everything he’d need to build a telescope, including a bucketful of hand-held mirrors, a mini-mountain of scrap wood, about two dozen magnifying glasses (there were a surprising number of magnifying glasses, and most of them weren’t even cracked, what gives?), and a tripod splattered in bird poop and paint.

He also had a lot of scrapes on his knees, shins, forearms, and hands, as well as a few more holes in his shorts than before - but really, he didn’t care. It was fun! It would be so  _ boring  _ if he didn’t get heroically hurt while crafting something to show his love to his love. (His inner Logan wasn’t happy about that, though, so he rolled his eyes and put antiseptic band-aids on the cuts before his inner Logan exploded.)

Then his phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out to see that Janus was calling. He grinned and pressed “answer”, putting it on speaker so that he could set it on the ground while he sorted out all his materials into different categories.

“Hey Jan-Jan, what’s up?” he asked brightly. 

_ “Remus. Where are you, and what are you doing right now?” _

He didn’t know why that’d matter, but he didn’t mind, because Janus always had a reason, and he didn’t even need a reason in the first place! “I’m in the junkyard and I’m building  an optical instrument used for making distant objects seem nearer, containing an arrangement of curvy mirrors and lenses, by which rays of light are collected and focused so that the resulting image is magnified!”

Janus was quiet for a moment, and Remus could just picture the irritated, done-with-it expression that they were no doubt wearing.  _ “Wow, Remus, say that any more eloquently and I’d think Logan’s rubbing off on you.”  _ Remus giggled.  _ “So you’re building a telescope in a junkyard. Why.” _

“For surprise! I’m gonna give it to Logie!” 

_ “Alright,”  _ Janus sighed.  _ “Anyway. Logan’s been rambling non-stop to me for hours, worrying about what to get you for Christmas and thinking that because I’m your best friend I’ll know what you want. He’s in the bathroom right now. So, before he comes back, I need you to tell me what you want for Christmas so that I can tell him and he’ll be forever in my debt - I mean, everyone will be happy.” _

He snickered. “Sure, Jan. You and I both know you’re just tired of listening to him.”

_ “Oh no. You caught me. Whatever shall I do.” _

“So… um… he really doesn’t need to get me anything. I don’t want anything.” Remus answered, biting his lip. He didn’t care if Logan got him something or not, because he just wanted Logan to be happy. 

_ “Remus! We’ve been working on this! You are equal, Logan is not worth more than you. You’re allowed to have opinions and want things.”  _

“Fine!” he groaned. “I want a stick! A really good stick! For bashing!”

_ “R- hang on, Logan’s coming back.”  _ Janus ended the call, and Remus shrugged, turning off his phone and continuing sorting out his materials. 

* * *

As it turned out, Remus was actually pretty good at making telescopes! It was really easy, actually - he just had to experiment with the different magnifying glasses and mirrors and their placements, and then when he found something that worked, all he had to do was draw it out on his notepad and then build the frame. It was fun, too! Like, with his first telescope that was more like a pirate’s spyglass, he didn’t get distracted  _ once.  _ (He got distracted twice, though.) He liked building it.

His second telescope turned out weird, like, somehow it ended up so that you looked into it and you saw your own eye  _ super  _ close up, and he didn’t know how web-like and pretty his eyes looked close up until he looked into it. That one was fun! But it wasn’t right. It wasn’t a telescope that would let Logan look at the stars.

So he’d built a third! And that one worked! It made things so close up when you turned the dial (it was a gear) that he accidentally set his blueprints on fire when he angled it towards the sun (he had to redraw them, but it was cool). The only problem with it was that the biggest lens had a crack, and the mirrors weren’t curved, so the view through it was broken up and blurred. It wasn’t good enough for Logan, and Remus set it aside, covering it up with an old shawl someone threw away so it wouldn’t get ruined. (Even if it wasn’t good enough, he kinda got attached to it.)

Of course, those had taken him almost five full days to build (because he kept getting distracted and he had to make sure to go home to spend time with Logan and also eat because Janus made him), so when he started in on the fourth telescope it was Day 6 and he had about a week before Christmas. 

But he ran out of materials, so he had to go collect some more, and since he couldn’t find enough magnifying glasses in the junkyard that meant he went on a super fun dumpster diving trip! He ran into a gang of feral cats in an alleyway, and accidentally ended up becoming one of them and launching an ambush on their rival gang, which ended in him covered in potentially infected scratches and cat blood (none of them died though). But he just went over to Virgie’s place, because that emo had basically all the anti-inflammatory, antiseptic, and Neosporin that a feral trash rat (honorary cat) could ask for, and then he was good as new and he continued on his merry way!

Then he remembered his and Logan’s dinner date, and he dumped all the supplies he got in the junkyard and then left to go get ready for that at Janus’ place. It was super fun! Logan told him all about bees and wasps, and he was also kind of worried about his bandages, so then Remus told him the amazing story of him becoming a feral cat, and overall it went super smoothly! 

On Day 8 he went to the junkyard again, but got distracted by painting all of his previous attempts with epoxy and acrylics, and that took all day and he didn’t get the chance to work on his fourth telescope, which he had just decided to name Tori. (His first was Skyler, his second was Ricky, and his third was Arlin.)

Day 9 he finally resumed working on his fourth attempt, and it was going absolutely  _ swimmingly!  _ Tori was pretty difficult to make the frame for, because he had to use a semi-broken staple gun and a directed ray of laser-like sunshine from Arlin to stick together the scrap metal. It was fun, though, because he really liked watching the metal bubble up and then cool down. He could probably do it all day! Oh, and he did! Because now it was sunset, and he had the whole empty frame (with mirror shards) of Tori, and he just wanted to keep going - but he should probably go back home, because Logan was probably worried.

Logan didn’t seem to mind that he was gone most of the day, because that wasn’t exactly a new development. Also Logan had work. Remus was glad, because if Logan was sad or upset he’d have to forget about Tori and cuddle him all night until he felt better. Because Logan wasn’t supposed to be sad. He was supposed to be happy and nerdy and cute and flustered and perfect!

He’d also taken up singing Hamilton songs while he worked on Tori. He didn’t even change the lyrics most of the time! Hamilton was just such a great musical. 

Wait, he was getting off-track.

He finally finished Tori at the end of Day 11, complete with a coating of epoxy and acrylics, painting it a dark blue with dark green streaks and silver specks. 

Remus felt elated. It was dark, the stars were out, and he was standing in the middle of a junkyard, proudly looking at Skyler, Ricky, Arlin, and Tori, and the pile of scraps and tools that he was done with. 

He took a deep breath, grinned, and put his eye to the eyepiece, closing his other eye.

The dog star. The brightest star in the night sky. It was so  _ big,  _ and bright, and a little bit blue and blob-like - 

Remus gasped in surprise and happiness, pulling away from Tori and bouncing up and down ecstatically. It worked! It  _ worked!  _ It had a little gray around the edges of the view, but it  _ worked,  _ and it was ready and it was done and he could give it to Logan and he’d love it and it’d be  _ perfect!  _

He couldn’t hold in his happiness. He slapped both hands over his hand and  _ screamed,  _ falling over backwards and hitting the ground with a  _ thud.  _ Now he was looking up at the stars, and he could see hundreds of constellations, the Milky Way, and the blinking red and blue lights of an airplane. It was cold, and somewhat windy, and he was very much not dressed for that, but he felt so invincible that he didn’t even notice.

He’d  _ done it.  _ He’d made a telescope, and it  _ worked,  _ and it had only taken eleven days! 

He felt relieved. He had a gift for Logan, and maybe it wasn’t quite perfect, but it was  _ good.  _ For Remus, that was… that was  _ revolutionary.  _

He was crying. Sobbing uncontrollably, muffled by his hands, while tears streamed down his face and he shook.

The stars were so pretty.

* * *

The stars in Logan’s eyes shone brighter than the sun, sparkled more than a firecracker, and made Remus more high than if he’d just had seven shots of tequila. His jaw was slack, his hands over his mouth, tears slipping down his cheeks.

“Remus…” his voice was choked with emotion, quiet and raw.

Remus shifted nervously on his feet, eyes flicking nervously from Tori to the ground to Logan and back to the ground. He was so anxious, what if Logan didn’t like it!? What if it wasn’t good enough!? 

“You made this?” it was barely a whisper, awed, disbelieving.

He nodded, smiling hesitantly. “It’s name’s Tori,” he tried.

Then he had an armful of Logan, warm and sweet and smelling like Crofters’ and books, and his boyfriend said emotionally, muffled by his shirt, “It’s perfect.”

Remus hugged back tightly. His voice was choked up too, now. “Not as perfect as you, Lo-Lo!”

“Shut up,” Logan whined.

* * *

“Remus?” Logan asked, looking up at the stars. 

“Yeah, Logie?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too!”

“Will you marry me?”

“FUCK YES!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh. Fluff is so flipping HARD, it took a week to write this!
> 
> Side Note: Logan got Remus his morningstar. But like. A prop. Obviously... >:3


	15. Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman has a nightmare and though he tries to pretend it didn't bother him, Virgil can tell he's still shaking, so Virgil comforts Roman and helps him go back to sleep. (Except they don't.) (Also this is a little short, but I've got writer's block so it's the best I can do.)
> 
> Happy Ending, Mostly Fluff, Humor, Inside Jokes, Implied Near Death Experiences

Roman woke up with little fanfare; one moment he was asleep, and the next he was awake, heart pounding and sheets twisted in his grasp, curling up and hugging his knees close to his chest. He felt cold and hot at the same time, and he could still feel the dark,  _ dangerous  _ eyes looking at him. He could still feel the pain, the fear, and he was only half-sure that this wasn’t just a continuation of the nightmare.

“You alright, Princey?” a quiet whisper and a yawn from Virgil startled him; he hadn’t even known that they were awake.  _ You woke them up.  _

He forced a smile and made himself relax, laying down and pulling the covers back over himself. “Yeah, don’t worry about it, Vee.”

“Really?” Virgil frowned, and from the way they scooted up Roman knew they were waking up more fully. “You’re shaking.”

“I promise, Stormcloud. It was just a… silly nightmare,” he replied softly, hoping against all hope that Virgil would go back to sleep and they could just forget it ever happened. He was  _ fine,  _ he was, but try telling that to his racing heartbeat and the just slightly too dark shadows that he just  _ knew  _ were watching him.

“Ro.”

He flinched.

“You’re allowed to not be okay.”

He tried a smile. It fell. “I’m - I really am okay.”

Virgil frowned and sat up fully, looking him in the eyes. “It’s fine. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. But don’t lie and say you’re fine when you’re obviously not.”

“Fine,” he sighed, and with that, he slumped, tears welling up in his eyes. Virgil pulled him close, wrapping his arms around him as a steady, comforting presence. “I’m not okay,” he mumbled. “It was… it was scary. I… I was too late, and I didn’t - I failed - and I know that I didn’t, but it was so  _ close,  _ Virge, I could’ve lost him  _ forever.”  _ His voice broke on the last word, and he couldn’t say anything more.

“Yeah,” Virgil whispered back, hugging him tighter. “I know. It’s over. You did it, Roman, I promise he’s okay. Everything’s okay. Because of  _ you.  _ Thank you so much, Roman - without you, you know where I’d be.”

_ Okay. Yeah, okay.  _ Roman sighed, fighting off a smile. “Don’t.”

Virgil laughed. “Fine.”

But when Roman had almost fallen asleep again, he heard Virgil mutter under their breath,  _ “Trash can spiders.” _

His face screwed up with the effort to not laugh, but he failed miserably, and fell off the bed as he giggled uncontrollably, barely able to breathe with how much he was shaking.

“No - no fair!” He whined between laughs.

Virgil leaned over the edge of the bed to look at him, with a perfect poker face. “Drunk rats.” He doubled over laughing, and it ached, but he couldn’t stop. “Anarchy!”

That was the last straw. 

Roman fucking died.


	16. Christmas Cookies and Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan helps Patton out with baking Christmas cookies, and they have a good time doing so. They also might share a kiss - but don't ask Logan, because he'll deny it. 
> 
> Happy Ending, Fluff, Pure Fluff, Humor, Cookies?, Established Logicality

“‘In a bowl, mix together half of a cup of vegetable oil, one cup of cocoa powder, and two cups of sugar.’” Logan read, looking up from the recipe book to raise an eyebrow at Patton, who was bouncing up and down with a little too much excitement to be explained by making cookies. “Patton, this sounds completely unhealthy, I don’t see why-”

“Can you re-read that?” Patton asked, dumping a bag of cocoa, a bottle of oil, and a bag of sugar on the counter with a bright smile. 

Logan sighed. It really was unhealthy… but… well. They were metaphysical aspects of Thomas’ personality. It wouldn’t truly affect them. Besides, who was he to deny Patton? “One cup of oil, one cup of cocoa, and two cups of sugar.”

“Okie-dokie!  _ Oil  _ just get right on that!” 

He cringed at the pun, but just shook his head and ignored it. (It was objectively adorable anyway.) “Alright. ‘Beat four eggs into the mixture one at a time.’”

As Patton started cracking eggs (and puns), Logan let himself smile just a little bit. True, he didn’t understand how useful he could be when he was banned from cooking after his… demonstration of his figurative “lack of taste buds” as Roman put it. All he could do was read out the directions while Patton did everything. He didn’t understand why Patton couldn’t just do it himself - but he wasn’t about to point that out to the more excitable side.

“Okay! What’s next, Lo?” Patton asked, looking up at him from about two inches away, which made him shriek, “EEEEEE equals MC scared!” 

Patton giggled. “Sorry Logan. What’s next?”

Logan huffed, smiling as he recovered, and found his place in the recipe again. “Add two and a half teaspoons of vanilla, then get another bowl.” 

As Patton followed the directions, Logan read the next part. “‘Combine two cups of all-purpose flour, two teaspoons of baking powder, and half of a teaspoon of salt.’”

“Oh my gosh! Logan, did you see Virgil the other day?” Patton blurted out, in the middle of whisking the ingredients together. “I caught him sleeping in the laundry basket, and he was just so  _ adorable!  _ I got lots of pictures! D’you wanna see!?”

“Why not?” Logan shrugged, and Patton set aside the whisk to pull out his phone, with a bright smile that was clinically contagious. From an objective standpoint. (Fine, it wasn’t like they weren’t dating or anything,  _ Patton was cute and it made him blush. _ )

The pictures Patton had taken of Virgil made Logan choke on nothing and then resort to a coughing fit to cover his laughter. Virgil’s mouth was so round, and his face looked so peaceful, and that combined with how he looked curled up in a laundry basket was enough to make Logan come undone. It was  _ hilarious.  _

He coughed a few more times before he regained his composure, and then he straightened, smirking slyly. “Patton.” “Yeah?” “Send me those pictures as soon as possible.”

“Sure thing Lo-Lo!” 

Logan picked up the recipe book again. “‘Mix the wet and dry ingredients, then cover the dough and leave it to chill for four hours.’”

Patton giggled again, shooting him a knowing smile, and dumped all the wet ingredients into the dry ones at once.  _ I do not understand cooking.  _ Logan shook his head, but he couldn’t get rid of his smile. 

“Well, looks like we have four hours to just  _ chill,  _ so what’re we doin’ until then, Logan?” Patton wrapped the dough up and shoved it in the fridge, then spun around with an eager grin.

Logan blushed, and Patton’s grin grew, and before he could protest insincerely he was caught in Patton’s arms and had light, soft lips pressed against his own. His face flamed, but he just closed his eyes and relished the feeling.


	17. Are You Sure?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton and Logan have been married for two years, and decide to adopt.
> 
> Happy Ending, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Vitiligo, Food?, Adoption

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Logan asked, watching Patton flit nervously about the kitchen, mixing three different batters and buttercream while a tray of cookies was already baking in the oven. He, of course, was equally as nervous; but he restrained himself to fidgeting with the fidget ring on his pointer finger and bouncing his leg.

They’d been married for two years, and after a long discussion, figured out that they wanted to adopt. But even though they’d done most of the steps involved, they could still back out if they weren’t ready - and now Logan was becoming increasingly convinced that they weren’t.

Patton looked over at him, utterly scandalized. “Of course! Lo, we’ve been planning this for months, of course I’m ready! Just… a bit jittery, is all!”

“Alright,” Logan acquiesced. “Then this has to be it, okay? You have to finish before we leave; it’s dangerous to leave the oven on while we’re not in the house.”

“Okey-dokey, Lo-li!” he agreed, pouring batter into a pan and then turning to pull the cookies from the oven.

They were quiet for a little. Then, Patton spoke up, his nerves showing in his voice. “What if they don’t like us? What if we can’t adopt because we’re gay? What if we adopt someone and they don’t tell us that they have a sibling and then we’re breaking apart another family so that we can have one? What if-”

“Patton,” Logan interrupted gently, yet firmly. Patton quieted sheepishly. “We will just have to be careful, alright? This adoption agency is open to gay couples, we checked; and we won’t adopt someone who doesn’t want to be adopted. Everything will be okay.”

It was as much for him as it was for Patton - they both felt better, and before they knew it, Patton was done baking and they were driving over to the center.

They’d decided against adopting a baby; no matter how adorable they were, they’d have to buy formula, baby food, change diapers, and deal with waking up every few hours in the middle of the night. They wanted to give an older child a chance, perhaps not two or three, because that age range was notorious for tantrums, but they were looking for someone around elementary age, though they were open to adopting someone older if they felt that they should.

“Are you Mr. and Mr. Sanders?”

“Yeppers!”

“Right this way, please.”

They followed the social worker into the main part of the building, the anticipation almost killing them (figuratively). The halls were a little bare and drab, but clean, and there were a couple doors, but they kept walking until the social worker led them into a nice room that smelled like soap.

It had a table in the middle, a few chairs scattered about, and some toys and books in a corner.

They sat down hesitantly, sharing nervous looks, and the social worker left. Patton squeezed his hand.

When the social worker returned, there was a young boy with her. His dark hair was fluffy and curly and a little all over the place, and he had two different colored eyes, one yellow and one deep brown. On the side of his face with the yellow eye, he had a patch of lighter skin, something that Logan recognized as vitiligo. He was wearing a yellow T-shirt and gray pants, as well as a pair of shiny black boots. He had two banana-yellow gloves on his hands.

“Mr. and Mr. Sanders, this is Janus. He’s eight years old, and he’s been with us for three years. I’ll leave you to it,” she smiled, and sat down a little ways away.

Logan only had to take one look at his husband to see that he was utterly enamored.

“Salutations, Janus,” he smiled the littlest bit. “My name is Logan, and this is my husband, Patton.”

“Nice ta meetcha, Janus!” Patton bursted, beaming. “Can you tell us a bit about yourself?”

Janus smiled hesitantly back, and as he started speaking his hands moved along with his words in ASL. “I’m smart, and I like reading and writing. Um, I don’t like dogs much… they’re scary. And I don’t like society. It’s stupid.”

Logan let out a surprised snort of laughter, but covered it up with a cough when Patton kicked him in the shin. 

“I think you’ll fit right in, Kiddo!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's so short, and that I haven't updated in a while, I haven't been feeling very good recently. Both mentally and physically... I hope I'll get over this soon, but I don't know anymore. :(


	18. Remus' Logan and Roman (Part 5)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus commits murder, Logan prepares to leave, and Roman is struggling.
> 
> No Happy Ending (one more part left), Non-Graphic Murder, Humor, Starvation, Injuries, Roman is Hurting, let me know if I should tag something else!

Roman could barely stand. 

He slammed back down to the floor and drew in a sharp, pained breath.

Correction: he could not stand.

He felt so lightheaded and weak, his limbs trembled almost violently whenever he tried to pull himself up. His stomach was clenched painfully, pulling at his sides and screaming at him to eat something,  _ anything -  _ while he had to force himself not to touch the bowl of food that had been freshly replaced every day since Remus’ lover had taken up guard duty. Roman didn’t even know how long that had been, since he hadn’t bothered to keep track after it just kept playing out the same way so many times.

He hadn’t talked to the guards since his outburst, though they’d tried goading him, prodding him, asking questions and spitting out insults to try and get him to start talking again. He didn’t know why they suddenly wanted him to talk - he didn’t have any information that Remus didn’t already have - but he wasn’t going to let them pry out another word if he  _ died  _ over it. 

He didn’t think he’d get to die, though. He’d go insane first, from the words that kept replaying in his head, an unwanted encore performance that he couldn’t slip away from.  _ Idiot, bastard, pig, monster, haughty, stupid, monster, idiot, pig, monster, dumb, pathetic, weak, idiot, paranoid, stupid, monster, monster, monster -  _

Roman was, without a shadow of a doubt, without an ounce of exaggeration, starving. He guessed that he had, at most, two or three days before he passed out, and perhaps a week before he died. He didn’t want to die, not really - though recently he wondered what was the point. He wasn’t getting out. He was  _ weak pathetic stupid _ trapped. 

“You need to eat.” Red-Head pressed, clanging her weapon (it was a spear, he’d figured out a few days ago) against the bars. “If you don’t, I’m gonna have to go in there and force-feed you, and you’d better not try anything.”

He didn’t need much more encouragement. If the choice was between eating the poison of his own accord and being force-fed poison, he’d rather take the former option and keep his dignity.

He took a few deep breaths and slowly rolled over to his side, reaching out with a shaking hand to feel for the bowl. 

As he lifted it unsteadily to his mouth, Roman decided that he didn’t care anymore. It just wasn’t worth it. 

He half hoped he wouldn’t wake up the next day.

* * *

Remus dug his fingertips into the crack between the bricks, pulling himself up and using the firm toes of his boots to climb up higher. He breathed out in a silent huff, let go with his right hand and pushed himself up to grab onto the next ridge. His fingers burned, but he knew that he could keep going for as long as he needed to, so he ignored it. 

_ “The Secretary of Commerce, one Sir Allin Farr,” Dee had said, smirking at him. “He’s trying to repeal the Slave Law, and he’s getting a little too close for our best interests. I need you to take him out, but be sure to make it look like an accident.” _

He huffed a laugh as he pulled himself up another height, scraping his fingertips as he dug them into a new crevice.  _ It’s funny because he always says I can’t do subtle~  _ He paused as a light bobbed beneath him, illuminating the bases of the bricks. There was no shout of alarm, no whistling sound of an arrow, and he continued, rolling his eyes.  _ They never do look up, do they?  _

Remus didn’t need to glance down to know that he was far above the ground. He knew, from the ache in his thighs and shoulders, that he was at least twelve times higher than he was at ground level. He brought up his left leg and dug the tip of his boot into the wall, putting his weight on it, and that’s when his fingers decided to slip. His arm yanked out of its socket as he fell, but it held, and he was dangling painfully by the fingertips of his right hand.

He bit his tongue so hard to keep from yelping that it bled, and he spat out the coppery liquid, scrambling for toeholds and trying to ignore the way his shoulder was screaming in pain. He breathed heavily as he found his hold again, immediately letting go with his injured arm as soon as he was confident in the distribution of his weight.

It throbbed and shifted unnaturally, and he squeezed his eyes shut momentarily before he opened them again and slowly inched to the side, eyes locked on the windowsill just a few lengths away.

_ “Why on earth would you want to climb!? It’s dangerous! Risky! You should go up the stairs like a normal person!” _

_ “It’s fun! Besides, I’d never get past the guards-” he’d raised an eyebrow. “Unless you want to see me in chains? I didn’t take you for the type, but you could’ve just asked~” _

Nope. Nope. Remus was  _ not  _ regretting his decision, no way. He was  _ Remus!  _ He didn’t  _ do  _ regret.

He reached the windowsill and hauled himself up, finding that with a stroke of impossible luck, it looked into an empty study rather than a lady’s chambers. Prim noblewomen tended to scream very loudly - either that or punch  _ hard.  _

He rolled into the room and stopped, panting, leaning against the wall to try and catch his breath. He hissed at the pain in his arm and closed his eyes.

_ Nope! Gotta keep going, can’t just take a nap, need to go assassinate a prick!  _ Remus forced his eyes open again, and he took a steadying breath as he realized what he’d have to do. He felt around his injured shoulder, where the bone should be, where it actually was - 

And he shoved it back into place with a burst of white-hot pain, sucking in a sharp breath and trying not to make a sound. 

Later, he was sure Dee would yell at him for doing that, but Dee wasn’t here, was he? Nope! It was just him, Remus the crazy one, and that meant it was a-okay to set his own dislocated shoulder! It still damn hurt, though.

He looked around and reached forward, grabbing the leg of a chair. He pulled it closer and snapped it over his knee, then set the free leg aside to get out the bandages that Lo-Lo made him bring with him.  _ ‘Just in case you do something - like you always do.’  _ Rude. He rolled his eyes and positioned the wooden leg, holding it with his chin while he wrapped it to his arm and shoulder.

It didn’t look very stable, so he sighed and undid it, redoing it after snapping the leg in two and positioning the halves on either side of his shoulder. He rewrapped it, and it still hurt, but at least he wouldn’t be hurting it any more.  _ Ha! Take that, Dee! I DO have some self-preservation!  _

Remus grinned and got up, rolling his head to get rid of the neck-strain, and walked across the room. It was dark, so he couldn’t see much, but he found the door and ran his finger down the hinges to see if it was rusty or oiled, whether it would make a sound or be noiseless. It was textured and sharp at points, so he sighed and eased it open, only the first third, so that he didn’t reach the creaking point.

His night ended when he pushed dear Sir Allin Farr down the stairs, a moment reminiscent of the day he met Dee, except the positions were reversed. He was gone by the time shouts and screams rang through the halls, guards running up the stairs to look for anything that could’ve made him fall. (Don’t ask him how, he’ll just wink and laugh. “I dunno, how d’you think?)

* * *

Logan, Remus, Insomnia, four guards, and Roman were getting ready for a long trip.

Logan was packing up notebooks, pens, and ink; he was getting together medical supplies, essential items, food, and basically everything else they’d need, except for the weaponry and money - that was Insomnia’s job. Remus was tying things up, making a… large distraction while he sent away fifty of the freed slaves across the border. The guards were preparing, saying their goodbyes and packing up everything they’d need. 

Roman… well. He hadn’t even been informed yet. Logan had explained why he wanted Roman to come to Remus and Deceit, and they’d shrugged and agreed that it would be okay, because honestly - with Insomnia, Remus, and the four guards all being there too, Roman wouldn’t really pose much of a threat.

He wasn’t doing well, though. He’d started eating again, but he could still hardly stand. Logan wondered about what to do about that while he finished packing, but he didn’t have a satisfying conclusion so he set it aside for when he wasn’t so distracted. 


	19. Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus hates apologies.
> 
> Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Post-SVSR, Intrusive Thoughts

Remus has always hated apologies. 

First of all, they’re stupid and sappy and pathetic. It’s disgusting, and not in the way that he usually adores - it’s gross like romance and flowers and sappy emotions in general. He’s fine with anger, fine with jealousy, fine with excitement; in fact, he loves those emotions, loves the fiery sparking ones, intense and burning. But sadness? Happiness? Fear?  _ Love?  _ It’s dumb and gross, and even thinking about him makes him want to wash out his mouth with dirt. 

He does it. Now he has dirt in his teeth, and he can’t stop coughing. He probably should’ve seen that coming.

Anyways. Apologies, like gross sappy emotions, are pathetic.

But there’s more reasons to despise them than just because they’re stupid, like the fact that apologies are just words, completely meaningless. “I’m sorry” doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t change the fact that whatever’s happened has happened, it doesn’t make anyone feel better (unless they’re stupid), and it doesn’t mean that things are going to improve.

Say there’s two people. A and B. A has a wallet, B takes the wallet. A is livid! A wants to chase B down, pin them to the ground, and steal the wallet back, and no one will say that they’re wrong for doing it. But then B says “Sorry” and then suddenly A’s in the wrong if they don’t let B get away with it, or if they’re mad and steal it back? There are just so many things wrong with this scenario! What if B is lying? What if B  _ isn’t  _ sorry, but they’re taking advantage of social convention to make A the bad guy?

Yeah. Meaningless. Especially when parents reprimand their kids with, “Say you’re sorry!” Like, what’s that going to do? Teach them that apologies have to be forced? That they should fix everything? That you don’t have to mean them to say it?

It just rubs him the wrong way when someone says “sorry” like it’s the end of a conversation. 

Once, back when he and Roman actually worked together, he was waiting in the Imagination for a full two hours before Roman finally showed up. The prick just rubbed his head sheepishly and explained, “Sorry, I lost track of time.”

Remus had accepted it and they’d played for a bit, until it got late and Roman left.

It’s funny because Roman just kept “losing track of time” more and more often, until eventually, he just stopped coming.

Yeah, he doubts that Roman actually  _ meant  _ that apology.

Anyone who’s lived with Remus for more than a couple days (namely, Dee-Dee and Virge) knows just how much he despises apologies, and they avoid saying “sorry” like the damn plague, unless they want a morningstar to the head and a pissed-off Duke. 

Still… it’s telling that when something really hurts him, everyone’s first instinct is to apologize.

Double-Dee called him evil. That part’s fine; Remus loves being called “evil”, it’s an accomplishment that he’s very proud of. But Dee also said he wouldn’t be able to tell which twin is which if Remus didn’t have a mustache, even though he knows that being compared to your sibling is a big no-go for literally everyone with a sibling. And… he gave his name. To the others. When he hadn’t even told Remus first.

It’s infuriating that the first thing Jan does when he sees Remus in tears is say, “Remus, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking!”

Remus stands up, fists clenched, and the next thing he knows he’s standing over a crumpled snake with a broken nose. His fist is stinging, and he feels like maybe he should feel better now, but he doesn’t. 

His hands move to his head, grip his hair, tug painfully and squeeze, trying to get rid of the massive hurt that he feels right now.

He can’t breathe. He can’t - no he is, he’s breathing, but he’s breathing too much, and it burns like a match to gasoline. He’s so  _ angry -  _ he wants to hurt Jan so  _ bad,  _ he wants to break bones and stabstabstabstab and he can’t believe that after everything, Snakes thinks he can fix everything with Remus’ least favorite word.

_ Sorry. _

What a joke.

His face crumples, and when he blinks he’s hyperventilating in the corner of the room, curled up on his side, dark gray, cold tears slipping down the side of his nose and temple. 

Sorry.

He hates it. Hates it. Because now, he’s supposed to say “it’s alright”. He’s supposed to say “I forgive you”. Everything’s supposed to be fine now, and he can’t push the subject, because  _ sorry  _ is the end of it, the very end, there’s nothing beyond it. 

Sorry is the end. 

He doesn’t want it to be. He doesn’t want Fangs to leave, doesn’t want to push him away. He wants to forgive him so that he’ll stay, and Remus won’t be alone. He desperately doesn’t want to be alone. 

But he hates it, because he doesn’t forgive Dee, and he hates lying. DC doesn’t lie to him, he never lies, and their relationship is stronger than steel - but then there’s that word, that stupid word, the one word that Remus can’t stand. 

Sorry.

It’s a lie, it’s always a lie, and Snakey  _ doesn’t lie to him.  _

It’s over, it’s over, it’s over… Sorry is the end. He doesn’t want it to be, but it is, and he  _ knows  _ that there’s no way he can lie to J-anus no matter how much he has to.

It feels so heavy. 

Sorry.

It’s the end.

Alone.

Alone…

Remus is going to be alone.

Sorry.

“Rem.” He doesn’t move, but his eyes are wide, unfocused but open. Lies is kneeling next to him, looking completely serious. “I won’t leave you. Never. We will always be together, I promise.”

Promise…

He decides that he likes that word.

Buried in Jay’s arms, surrounded in warmth, Remus says quietly, “I’ll hold you to that, Janus.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about any requests I haven't done yet, I'm trying but I can't work up the motivation. I don't know if I'll be able to do them at all. I guess this is me announcing that I'm taking a break from requests? Sorry. I'll still update, and I'll let you know when I can do requests again. :(


	20. Sorry Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So... I was wrong. :(

I’m taking a break from writing - for a few reasons.

1\. Writer’s Block (I need motivation, ideas, and patience, and for that to work I need to stop trying to force it...)

2\. Depressive Episode (I really hope it’s not a relapse, I thought I’d gotten over it because it’s been over a year, and last time lasted three/four years.)

3\. School (I’m procrastinating so many assignments, and it’s _not_ helping my anxiety any.)

4\. Anxiety (Too restless...)

So I was wrong about still updating...

Just figured I’d let people know, y’know? So that no one yells at me or feels deceived or anything, and to satisfy my anxiety about this in addition to all my missing assignments. I’m working on a few snippet stories that I probably will never post, but by the time I’m ready to write again I’ll probably have a burst of stories. 

I... sincerely hope that this is not going to last as long as it did last time? I’m holding out hope that I’ll feel better by Spring Break, when I won’t have the added stressor of school, but if that doesn’t work out it might take longer... 

Sometimes I think that it would be easier to get things done if I had someone who stood over my shoulder and said “write or die” but I mean, it’s probably not worth it if I don’t enjoy the process, y’know? 

I’m rambling. Well, yeah, I’ll just end it there... 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may still update really sporadically? I have no idea how this is going to play out.

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive Criticism: yes  
> Spelling Corrections: yes  
> Requests: yes  
> Kudos: yes  
> Opinions: yes  
> Comments: yes  
> Destructive Criticism: no  
> Discrimination: no
> 
> In any requests, it’d be nice if you included how long you’d like the story to be, but you don’t have to. :)


End file.
